#is some of the most tense shit that happens in the story
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scara-writes · 3 days ago
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100% perfect
GN!Esper!Reader x Y!Guide!Male OC
Note: hello im back. A lot happened, I had an anxiety attacks, my mind has been having a lot of bad thoughts, my dog passed away last year—three months ago... I didn't have a lot of time for me to write since I've been grieving for my dog's death up until now but I'm okay, I'm healing... Anyway, my writings is rusty and probably didn't improve. I know some of you guys really tried to reach out through ask and I'm kind of happy. Thanks. For now I'll give this to piece of one shot for a new year. This Esper x Guide thing I made might not be accurate. All i know is they are similar to Alpha x Omega shits except the curse thing on espers. This might be cringe. i will try to edit it. I will try to update the other oc's as well.
-also please do not do this, i do not condone anything in this story. This is purely fiction and be kept as a fiction.
CW: implied se(g)s, implied suicide(mention), yandere, drugging, manipulation, dynamic power, etc.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
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"(Y/n)!!" A ginger haired male rush up to you, hugging you by the time you step on the greenery field of the university. Pastel blue of sweater was the first thing you see before you were envelope by a hug. You tense when his arms coils around your waist, hearing him breathe out of relief as he buries his face on your left shoulder. 
You don't know what to do everytime he does this. There were eyes everywhere and it doesn't seem like he is bothered by it.
Of course why would he?
Micah Clarke is not only popular and prettiest student in this campus. He is known for being famous as the youngest champion of ice skating 3 years ago, defending his title until now. His luscious natural lips, his hazel eyes that could make you halt on what you were doing, the type to make yourself give him a third glance because he is so pretty. So pretty that you sometimes envy his glassy skin, igniting a insecurities to yourself. His soft curly ginger hair and freckled face that matches his glossy alabaster complexion. The type of guy who prefers cute, pastel than those typical guys—omg so unique(lol)—that always choose to wear dark or dull colors. Everyone finds him attractive including yourself. Everything about him screams beauty and elegance. He can hook up with men and women if he wants to but he chose not to.
From what you heard, he is a rare S-rank Guide. Most espers would try hook up with him atleast make a contract with someone like him. He would rather spend his time painting his nails, crochetting, organising or planning his time, practicing his amazing skills on ice skating, or rather do hundred routine for his skincare than hook up with other people. Quirky, Alright. Still, this doesn't stop people from wanting to go between his pants and his fame.
To people he is a swan. He is epitome of perfection.
You always see him pass by to your department, always getting called by the principal,inviting him to do a photoshoot, using his face as an advertisment for upcoming enrollent or any event inside the university. You never dwell yourself to swoon on to him whenever he pass by. Fine, you do like him. But not the kind of like where you are romantically interest to him. You just admire his looks, his talents and that's about it. You just don't like he was too friendly, there's nothing wrong with that but invading someone else personal bubble space—and the feeling of shame on yourself for being near someone kind as him—as if you two are already close is not your thing to a person you rarely talk to. Unlike him, you are the quite the opposite when it comes to socialising,You like being alone, you aren't anti-social, atleast, that's what you think you are. You are confident by yourself. An Introvert.
You just like the silence. It eases your deteriorating mind—(stupid esper curse) Somewhere peace and quiet,reading books, listening to music—gosh laufey and wave to earth and even (favorite singer/composer) always sound so good, spending time with your pets, to drown out insanity voices piling up in your head. Although you just have a few friends, you love to be alone. You once dream about getting a job. To work hard and earn a good money, once you have enough money. You would spend it to buy a house and lot somewhere away from the city and nearby the countryside with a small farm. Letting your family and friends to visit you time to time in occassions. Where you can spend the rest of your life alone and happy. A dream that would be come true if only you didn't awakened as an esper after you reach 18.
As for the guy who has the entire school and other people folded for him. He is choosing you to lend his attention, to a person who doesn't like attention. So why was he talking to someone who is a nobody like a B-rank Esper like you? The only interaction you had with him before he let himself in your life was when you pull him away from the bridge—you didn't know him at that time—a few exchange greeting—which of course he would be the first one to initiate it—and.... The party....
"N-ngh!!!" A whiny moan escape his lips. Your lips were on his neck drinking each of his soft sound coming from his mouth. The blaring party background can be ignore in the background thanks to the closed lock door of this room the both of you are in.You bite and nip his skin as if animal marking its prey. You didn't care if you torn his shirt, you just needed his guide seep through more, letting your body gone addicted to him. "(Y-y/n)!" The whay he whimpered your name made you groaned. The way every pulse from his body sends his guiding through your body.  You were delirious, you can't resist him—
"Missed you! Why aren't you checking my messages? You know I got worried when you didn't reply." He whined, his orbs shows concern and sadness. You look away.
"...hey." you greeted him with quieter tone. You pulled away from the hug not liking the way your body just relaxes everytime his guide powers automatically seeps through your body. You don't hate it but you don't like the way that your body depends on someone just for the sake of being sane and relax.
.... The shame you are feeling over the past few weeks.
You still feel guilty and ashamed about it everytime you remember those memory.
"I... I was busy. Had to do homework. I fell asleep and forgot to charge my phone." You told him. Another excuse. You just put your phone on do not disturb.
You don't have the guts to tell a sweet person like him to leave you alone. Well you did because you are ashamed to face him but he insisted it was never you fault. It always ended up him spending time with you. You can't—you owe him more than anything—Especially now that all people's oggling to you too now that you have the attention of the star. They would try to befriending you so that they could get closer to him.
Gosh, you are getting tired. Why can't people leave you alone?
You missed the old times where you can be at peace. No drama, nowhere near on people who wants attention.
"O-oh. Well that's alright."he chided before grabbing your hands with both of his. His smooth hands rubbing against your ragged callouses. He continued, "well actually I was wondering could you hangout out with me? This friday? I know you don't have schedule at that time since you showed me your schedule—And I want to spend more time with you!" He beamed. His smile was out of this world and it blinds you.
"I uhh .. have a plan on that time..." You words went silent as soon as your eyes sees the smile from his lips slowly fell down to his face."really?" The grip on your hands were getting uncomfortable.
"Umm.... I just wanna be on my home and well—"He gasped, his smile is coming back on his symmetrical face as he clung to your right arm."oh! Why didn't you say so? We can hangout together in your home!"
Giddy, he press his front closer to you which made you feel suffocating. His guide power automatically seeps through you again.
"N-no, Mikah... What I meant to say is I plan to rest, like spend alone on that day. A peace and quiet." You slowly pull away your hand gently from his clinging hands.
You didn't expect he would react like this. Tears are already in the corner of his eyes. His lips quivering. "W-what? Are you saying that I'm boring, I-I'm too loud? Did I do something wrong?"
The people who were eavesdropping at your conversation sent a glare and unwanted resentment towards you. 
You quickly shook your head. Your free hand clasping against his clutching ones that is gripping your poor unavailable hand. "No... It's not like that. You didn't do anything wrong.. I just want a me time... You know when... Uhhh before you and I become friends.... I just want to relax by myself.... You're a good friend and a good company but... We've been hanging out for a while... Ummm w-what I'm trying to say is... I want some time to be alone. You... You know what I mean right?"
Micah gave you a blank stare. You were getting uneasy. You bite your inner cheek. Will he lash out? He never seem to be the person who never received a refusal on his entire life. As soon as 2 seconds has passed, you noticed his eyes were akin to sadness. You feel the guilt running up to your spine.
You tried to avoid his gaze looking straight his frowning lips before getting replace by a forced grin. "Oh! I get that! You wish a time for yourself! Self care stuff in all that!" 
Your heart beats a little faster in excitement, is he finally leaving you for a bit? You were about to thank him for understanding. He does l—
"B-but!!" He grabbed your hands again.
You internally groan. Does he even know the word no? Of course he don't.
He never had someone says no to him. Everything he request would be at his feet. You can't yell or be rude. That's not in your nature and plus if you done it. His fans would kill you.
"I need to be with you o-on friday! You know... I wanna spend my birthday with you.. P-please? your presence alone is enough a gift for me." He stammers. You blink in surprise. "I-I promise I won't bother you the next day if you really wanna spend t-time for yourself..."
Birthday?
"T-to be honest.... I don't like parties uhmm..." He lick his lips as if the word 'party' is a taboo between the two of you." Especially my birthday parties because a-although people greet me a happy birthday or any party occasion and stuff they never really mean it. They... Always use that as an excuse to use me for my fame or my money that I earned so hard in those competitions... I.. I plan to not throw one b-because m-my family isn't forcing me anymore... I just want to spend my birthday w-with you. Y-you're the only d-decent person who treated me normally."he stammer.  You feel a lump on your throat when he says you're a decent. "I... I know... Umm I'm asking to much f-from you and I know... you didn't mean to do that—" he continues to rambles that some of his words can't form a right sentence. You noticed his eyes were in the verge of tears, threatening to drop from his eyes. 
"I'm.... Not a decent person." You told him looking away from him, ashamed and hurt were written in your face.Your voice grew quiet but the man Infront catch on what you said, already refering to the 'incident' between the two of you. He bit his lower lips and almost yelled. His face pull out a sad look. It made him look cute if it's from a tears of joy."Y-you are ! You are a decent person! You know it's not your f-fault! You were d-drugged a-and I... I was drunk! W-we both know we weren't in o-our right minds! You never hurted me—!" He starts hiccuping. "You're a-a good person! W-what happened between that night s-should b-be buried! Y-you're a good friend! It's not your fault! It's not your f-fault!" With that he burst into tears.
You didn't expect for him to cry. You panic mentally. What should you do on these type of situations? You pull him for a hug—albeit stiffeningly."Ok... Ok... Don't cry.... I don't like it... When you cry.. I'm sorry." You told him honestly, truthfully this is not the first time he argued about the incident with you.
You still feel ashamed of yourself. You really do. 
The party. If only you didn't come to your friend's party. The guilt won't eat you. No matter how many times Micah convinced you that none of it was your fault. You feel like you can't face him. He did say he was also drunk at the time but still... You could have gotten home earlier and didn't force yourself on him.
You cried and apologised so many times from him at that time, swearing you will turn yourself over to the police and never let him see your face again. You saw how his whole body was full of marks, hickeys, and bruises. He look like he got ravage. His clothes were thorn and you wish the drug in your system that time killed you.
Micah's eyes light up and a smirk forming from his lips as he nuzzle his face on your neck, pretending to cry even more. Everything is planned, everything worked for him to get you under his palm. He can feel the guilt eating you. 
"... it's okay... Hik... " He sob sneaking in to kiss your neck. You are to busy awkwardly and hesitantly patting his back and hugging him and the man love every second of it.
From the moment you save him from jumping off the bridge, he needed to make you his. Someone who genuinely cares for him from this greedy world is something he needed to treasure.
Oh how he had you wrap around his fingers the moment you accepted that drug-disguise juice from one of his friends offered by the man himself. It's your fault.
It doesn't matter. You're under his palm forever. Everything is 100% perfect.
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rawliverandgoronspice · 3 months ago
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guys I found an amazing cuica vst in my old files that's it it's over it's goron time now
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bigassmoonchild · 5 months ago
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Lost
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader
Word Count: 1.4k
Summary: It's not the first time you've plummeted into another timeline. It is the first time in years that you've met a Deadpool still doing the anti-hero (vigilante?) thing. And unfortunately for you, you're stuck with him.
Content Tags: DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE SPOILERS! I'm being so serious, this entire series is going to be stock-full of spoilers for that movie. Some mentions of blood, lots of cursing (as expected). No use of Y/N
A/N: I promise I'm working on stuff, work just has had me super busy the last few weeks (months if I'm being more honest) and school is coming up soon for me :(. Anyways. I wanna lick Logans abs. This is hopefully gonna be a slow burn ;)
(p.s. lmk if you wanna be added to a tag list in the future)
(p.p.s. this is mostly story building with a tad bit of plot)
(p.p.p.s. i'm trying to write in a less past tense style, forgive if that changes throughout the story, im so fuckin delirious)
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It’s jarring. Every single time it happens is so jarring. It’s almost like getting whiplashed with how hard you are pulled backwards and then your stomach drops; it feels as though you’re falling. The same sensation you get right before you fall asleep, like your body can’t tell if you’re still alive.  
You’ve never been thrown so forcefully out of it. Usually you land, stumbling on your feet. This time, though, you’re thrown onto your back. Your skull cracks against the pavement underneath you and it feels like all the air has been forced out of your body.  
“Fuuuuck,” it feels pushed out of your body, your chest heaving in short gasps. Rolling onto your side, all you can see in front of you is the street. Whatever Earth you’ve landed on, it doesn’t seem like it’s good.  
There’s blood splattered everywhere, cars and buses are on their sides or flipped over. Glass is scattered on the streets. Maybe you just arrived right after the battle of New York, maybe this world has been abandoned.  
You struggle to your feet, stumbling and catching yourself before standing fully upright. You can feel the warmth of some blood on your back before the skin reconnects, leaving behind the burn of cement rash.  
Behind you, there’s panting. It’s heavy and sounds almost wet. Turning, you look at two men who were behind you. 
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,”  
... 
You tried walking away. Removing yourself from the situation like the adult you were, but no. It wasn’t working. You never got more than a few feet away from the two before being teleported back within their range.  
The two men, Deadpool and the poor Wolverine stuck with him, just watched for some time. Deadpool was oddly quiet through most of it, although you can almost hear the monologue in his thoughts, his head following as you walked in different directions before snapping to where you appeared. Dogpool, the ugly thing, sat in the arms of its alternate person just panting heavily. It never stopped panting.  
You huff angrily, throwing your back against the wall right next to Wade. Crossing your arms, you look down at Mary Puppins sitting in his arms. She went cross eyed while looking up at you, staring blankly at the wall next to you and yourself.  
“Who shit in your biscuit this morning?” Wade asks you, head tilting slightly. You have to brace yourself and breathe deeply to make sure you don’t roll your eyes. You never realized how thankful you were that your home Earths Deadpool ended up in the void before you even knew what abilities you had.  
Glancing down at him with just your eyes, you find that he still hasn’t looked away. “Whoever the hell sent me here, that’s who,” you respond. There’s pain in your voice, you can hear up, but also the utter annoyance that most Deadpool's just bring. “Didn’t know the Wolverine on this world was still alive,” you nod your head towards Logan like you’re gesturing to him.  
It’s quiet. You’ve somehow silenced Wade Wilson, the merc with a mouth. You watch his chest expand in a deep inhale and it caves back in as he exhales deeply.  
“He isn’t,” and your brows furrow. Other than the TVA, you don’t know any other casual dimension jumper. Even they were a stretch, you know, they didn’t deserve to be able to do that.  Somehow, they were able to master it. You think he can see the confusion on your face as your eyes flit back and forth between them. Logan’s still eating whatever it is he had in his hand. “The TVA,” he takes a breath, and you have to interrupt. 
“Why did they bring him here?” You shake your head, brows furrowing further.  
Wade shifts his head side to side. “They didn’t bring him here, sunshine,” his voice perks up. “I did,” and he has the widest smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  
“I don’t,” you pause and rub your face, looking down at the ground. “I don’t even wanna know why or how,”  
“’Cause I'm Marvel Jesus,” is his quick quip back. He stands suddenly, his back popping and cracking as he stretches himself. “Alrighty, Peanut, let’s get going home,” he says to Logan (maybe it was to Mary Puppins, you’ve got no idea), and there’s a little pep in his step. “C’mon puppy!” Wade calls and you get yanked again and appear just a few feet ahead of him.  
With a roll of his eyes, Logan stands and tosses his food off to the side. “I’m going to go figure things out on my own,” he says. Turning away, you watch as Logan walks off from the two of you and you hope to whatever being is out there that you get pulled along with him, but he isn’t able to make it more than a few steps before Wade starts talking again. 
“Oh no you don’t! I’ve waited far too long for this meetup!” Wade calls out, and you see Logan stop in his tracks. His shoulders slump, almost like he’s struggling with a decision he’s about to make. “Blind Al isn’t all she’s cocained up to be, we need a third in our little house of horrors,” he snickers a little. 
You’re really hoping it doesn’t last forever, but when you finally make the trek to Wades apartment that feeling almost vanishes (almost). It’s homey, although the apartment itself is small and cramped with two people already there. You’ve met a few Als before, but only a small number of them weren’t blind. 
It was only in passing though. You could recognize that woman anywhere. Her eyes were always a striking feature, and the few who weren’t blind always carried this sort of knowledge within them as they followed you when you walked by them.  
This Al seemed sweet, although listening to Wade tell you about her was a little odd. You couldn’t fully tell if he was joking about her being able to see cocaine, but there’s been worse you’ve interacted with.  
Speaking of worse, Logan would not let you out of his sight at all thus far. You could feel his eyes boring down on your back the entire walk to the apartment, and even when you got inside and completely ignored everything Wade was saying (a lot of it was just telling you and Logan about the apartment and what to not touch, oddly enough) he would not let you leave his sight.  
Even just checking out what type of T.V this world had to offer left you with his stare. You begin to browse their small selection of DVD’s when you finally speak up. 
“Might wanna take a picture,” it was quiet, but you knew he could hear you. “It’ll last you longer,” but there was no response. Usually, it was the Bucky Barnes of the Earth that had the staring problem, it had never been the Wolverines.  
They always made their problems with you obvious. They’d never pulled this type of behavior, and it was strange. For the first time in years, you had someone act strange and you couldn’t figure out how to go about confronting it.  
“Who’re you?” Logan finally spoke up, quieting Wade in the middle of his rant.  
You swallow thickly. “I’m not the person you think I am,” and you cringe internally. It always sounded dumb when you said it, but you never knew what else to say. Who knows if there’s another you in this world, or maybe even Logans. “Whoever I am, or was, to you? That’s not who I am,” but you’d never met another one of you.  
There’s the thud of glass on wood, it's thick and there’s no way that it isn’t a beer bottle.  “I’ve never met you in my life. Have you?” Assuming he was talking to Wade, you turn as best as you can while still crouched in front of the TV to look at him.  
He’s shrugging, opening his mouth for a response before Logan beats him to it. “What the hell is it that you can do, anyways? Are you a mutant? Or just another fucked up creation by a government?” You bark a laugh.  
“I’m just one of God’s fucked up mistakes, that’s what,” and you look down with a sigh, shaking your head. “I really don’t know. My world didn’t have mutants, not like others do. It was always some botched work done by doctors in basements,” Wade looks appalled.  
His eyes find some spot on the wall, and he smiles at it. “It’s like looking into a mirror. Although a lot less ballsackey and not as interesting,” you have to shake your head.  
Logan clears his throat. “What do you mean, your world didn’t have mutants,” you smile at him.  
“My timeline doesn’t exist anymore,”  
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mockerycrow · 1 year ago
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HELLO the biggest congrats on 4k, you absolutely deserve that and so many more!!!
Could I see a female!reader x Ghost with the prompt:“I had a nightmare . . . can I stay with you tonight?”
TY and yet again, congratulations 🤍🤍🤍
REASSURANCE (Ghost x Fem!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION
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authors note; thank you so much anon <3 i hope you enjoy!
[WARNINGS; not proofread (like most of my fics), silent panic attack + light dissociation, implied you’ve never seen his face, hurt/comfort.]
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You know Ghost has nightmares—everyone knows Ghost has nightmares. No one really wants to talk about it because he doesn’t, but everyone has seen the man up at ungodly hours of the night, or perhaps beating the absolute shit out of a punching bag at the on-base gym.
No one except for Price knows what Ghost’s been through, but no one really questions him. It’s unrealistic to think Ghost is the only one waking up due to their dreams—even Price does on the occasion. What Ghost doesn’t do is ask for help.
You had a weird gut feeling about tonight; you weren’t really restless, but you weren’t tired. Every time you laid down to try to get some sleep, your eyelids would slowly open back up. You tried multiple methods; white noise, thinking about nothing, thinking about a story, taking a sleep remedy—nothing.
You had a weird tightness in your stomach that you couldn’t shake. It’s no big deal, you’ve had several nights like this. Nights where you stay up, half expecting something to happen. You aren’t sure if its the military-esque anxiety flaring up, expecting an attack of some sort or if it’s just one of those nights.
You’re laying in bed, trying to think of what you have to do tomorrow. Might as well try to think of something useful, right? Let’s see, you have to do morning training and then you have to eat, brief with price, it’s your turn to help the armourer—the weapons master, you like to say to piss them off—and you also have to do paperwork.
A very tame evening, you think, avoiding the Q word everyone oh so desperately hates; including yourself. Because the second you say it, you’re going to be called by Laswell, or General Shepherd, or some other CIA federal agent bureaucrat about some fucking thing that’s happening in the god forsaken world that only, and only task force 141 can handle—
—Someone knocks on your door, breaking your disorganized thoughts. Your eyebrows furrow; no one should be up, maybe Price is, or Ghost. Did you forget some paperwork? You sit up, slip your slides on your feet, and you walk to the door. You unlock the door and open it, wincing from the bright light of the hallway pouring in, and you’re met with the large figure of Ghost.
You blink, unsurprised. “Hey.” You utter. “Did I wake you?” God, Ghost sounds rough. It sounds like he garbled glass—er, maybe that isn’t the nicest way to describe one of your superiors voices right now. It’s clear he just woke up. You shake your head in response, stepping aside. “Here, come in. It’s bright.”
Ghost silently obeys, stepping inside of your room. You close the door and head over to your desk. You feel around in the darkness until you feel your lamp and you click a button, turning it on, illuminating the room just enough for you to see Ghost. He’s wearing a pair of dark grey sweatpants with one of his black, long-sleeve compression tops to go with it.
He’s wearing a basic black balaclava without the iconic skull, but.. His eyes are different. Distant and weary, cautious—panicked almost. Your eyebrows furrow together as his broad shoulders are tense, fists clenched.
“Ghost..” You call softly. He seems far away—he needs your help. “Ghost.” You say more insistently and louder, noticing the way his chest is barely moving. “Ghost, hey, can y’hear me? You need to take a breath..” You murmur, slowly approaching him.
He’s frozen but you see how his eyes flicker towards you, taking a moment realize where he is. You offer a soft smile you always show him and you nod. “There you are, big guy. Can I touch you?” You make sure to ask because you never know; a soldier during a flashback, touching them? That can be fatal—you trust Ghost as you don’t think he would ever hurt you, but you never know a person.
It takes him a moment to nod, which makes you promptly and gently grab his wrists. You gently guide him to your bed, and you sit him down. You’re nervous—you’re about to calm him down in one of the only ways you know how to, but you’re worried about the consequences you’ll receive afterwards. Oh well, you don’t care, not when Ghost’s eyes are as unfocused as they are.
The bed dips under his weight and you gently spread his legs, standing between them. You grab his arms; they’re deadweight, but his eyes flicker some recognition, allowing you to guide his arms around your waist. You guide his head to lay against your stomach, your hands cradling his masked jaw and the back of his neck.
Ghost takes in a harsh, shuddery breath which makes you hum in approval. “There you go, Ghost. Breathe, you’re alright.” You say in a mellow manner, your thumb brushing over his masked cheek. Ghost takes in another harsh breath as his arms tighten around you. You continue to try to ground him, talking and praising him for his efforts to stay calm. You know he isn’t in the right mind, but you’re still shocked he’s allowed you to touch him for as long as you have.
Something in your gut unravels as Ghost pulls his head away ever so slightly, ripping his mask off and throws it away like it was constricting his breathing. He buries the side of his face back into your stomach, taking you by surprise. Your met with his blonde hair in the low light, your heart stuttering.
You hesitate only for a moment before you bury a hand in his hair on the back of his head, your other hand returning to his jaw, your heart hammering as you note he has stubble as well as something on his skin, like deep scar tissue.
Ghost lets out a noise which you quickly hum in response. “It’s okay, let it out.. Won’t tell anyone about this, okay?” You assure him, causing another noise to escape him, almost like a laugh. “Kinda hard t’do that when a pretty girl is comfortin’ you.” He croaks, his voice broken—both his voice and sentence making your brain short circuit. You laugh in return, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Shush,” You murmur. “Just relax.”
Ghost nods against your stomach, shakily exhaling. You stay like that for a while; neither of you are sure for how long, and neither of you care. You’re enjoying the rare vulnerability Ghost is displaying, and he’s enjoying the grounding touch you’re currently providing him. The silence is comforting as you comb your fingers through his hair, and you enjoy the weight of his head and his arms.
“I had a nightmare…” Ghost utters. You hold your breath as he looks up at you, and oh god, he’s hot. “..Can I stay with you tonight?” You’re mesmerized by the way his nose is curved—clearly has been broken a couple of times and wasn’t reset right—by the way his eyebrows are furrowed, his big, beautiful brown eyes.. You nearly forget to respond. “Yes,” You push out, resisting the urge to reach up and rub the tension between his brows. “Always.”
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carolmunson · 1 year ago
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the cars that go boom | (daddydom!sadist!eddie)
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this fic isn't related to the title song reference at all, it's just stuck in my head. needed to get this out of my drafts so here's some ddlg themed sadist eddie that's been sitting in my draft folder for fucking ever and i'm sick of looking at it. tw: 18+ mdni ddlg dynamics, daddy kink, eddie being all over a cocky shit bag hottie who likes control but it's consensual, use of a vibrating toy. lots of allusions to other sex.
You watch him get out of the bathroom after his shower, tattoos stretched taught over softly cut muscles. You almost drool. He tried something new with you this week, an orgasm ban -- nearly a sex ban -- in fact, he didn't even want you to see his dick. And much like he always does when he finds a new way to torture you; he was feeling really pleased with himself about it.
'That's more than you deserve,' he hissed at you Monday night while you knelt obediently between his legs. He pet your hair while you watched TV and he jerked himself off, you were not allowed to turn around until he was finished. You pouted all night, and when it happened the next day you started pouting all week. But, the week was over, which meant your punishment was done. You'd spent all day getting ready, a long shower, smooth skin, body butter, his favorite perfume, everything you could do to feel perfect for him. You cleaned the trailer and made dinner, you kissed him when he got in the door to which he blushed and smiled.
'Hi beautiful,' he greeted you so gently, 'I missed you today.'
You watch him dress now, hair dripping while he tugs on a pair of grey sweatpants and a ratty cut off Iron Maiden t-shirt. You sulk a little. Those aren't normally the clothes he'd put on if he wanted to take you to bed, but you don't say anything just yet.
He goes to the kitchen table with a composition notebook and a collection of pens and markers, opening the beat up pages to what you can only assume is a new campaign, a new drawing of a map. You walk over while he mulls over it, adding new territory, scribbling in new lore. You let your hands slide over his shoulders.
"Hi baby," you say sweetly.
"Hi," he responds, focused on his notebook. Your hands slide forward, onto his chest, your face leaning down to his, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
"Whatcha doing?" you ask innocently.
"Workin' on a campaign," he responds, "We're gonna meet up on Wednesday night so I want it to be semi together."
"Okay," you nod, you run your fingers gently over his scalp, giving him a soft scratch. He keens into the touch, shoulders relaxing while he rolls his head back. You press your luck, letting your fingertip trace over the curve of his ear.
"Hey," he warns softly, "I'm tryin' to focus, sweetheart."
"Oh, I'm sorry," you apologize, but he can't see your grin. Your fingers continue to wander, giving him a sweet shoulder massage while he reads over his story. A quiet 'thank you honey', falls from his full lips while you work out the knots. You press your luck again, trailing your finger down the line of his neck that's the most sensitive to your tongue and touch. Eddie's shoulders tense and he sits up straight, turning to you with a sour pull at his full lips.
"Do you need something?" he asks pointedly. You feel heat rush to your cheeks, "Do you need some attention?"
You nod and he grins, pulling the other kitchen chair over, "Come sit next to me then, you can help."
You roll your eyes and sit down next to him, he bites his tongue at the offense, happy to get to spend some time with you like this. He gives you a chaste kiss on your cheek while you watch him work.
You barely 'help', just sitting there while he crosses things out and re-writes them. While he flips back ten pages and then forward twenty, grabbing a red pencil and putting it down for a blue pencil then picking the red back up and so on. You get restless watching him work, so you get up and grab each of you a beer. Another sugar sweet, 'thaaank you baby,' pours from him, this time deep and focused, dark and syrupy. Molasses tongue. It goes right to your thighs.
You press your luck a third time, scooting close to him, letting your hand smooth over his covered thigh and further up, skimming over his cock that was perfectly outlined in his sweats. He let's out a frustrated sigh when he takes your hand away from his crotch, gently putting it on your lap when he looks at you sternly.
"Daddy's busy, baby," his eyes look down at you, his dominance brewing under angry brows, "Why don't you go play by yourself in another room, hm?"
He turns his attention back to the campaign notebook, while you throb from being scolded. The humilation pools through you when he chastises you, eyes lingering on you while you continue to sit there. After a beat, you get up to walk to the bedroom hearing his voice as you do.
"Good girl," he teases, "Are you being a good listener?"
You look back and see his grin while he leans back in the kitchen chair, crossing his arms. His legs are spread wide under the table, cool authority flowing off of him.
"Are you?" he asks again, a smirk cracking his face as if to ask, 'Does this embarrass you?' It does, it's humiliating.
"I'm a very good listener," you respond quietly, heart dropping in your chest.
His brows raise, waiting for you to add more to the sentence. You let out an aggravated huff through your nose, crossing your arms.
"I'm a very good listener, daddy," you repeat.
"There we go," he smiles cruelly, "Go have fun, sweetheart."
'Have fun? HAVE FUN?' you think to yourself while you go to the bedroom and shut the door with a firm click, 'Fine! I'll have fun without you then! See if I care!' It's not fair that you've been quite literally begging to be fucked for seven straight days, but to go straight into teasing you like this? The type of dominance that makes you feel the most -- god -- embarrassed? Degraded? You'd rather gag on fingers and have him wipe your spit on your face. You'd rather him make you lick someone's cum out of his ass, literally anything but this.
With a huff you open Eddie's top dresser drawer and grab the Hitatchi he bought you as an anniversary gift last year. Hastily, you plug it in behind the bedside table before climbing on to bed, shimmying your jeans off and tossing them to the floor.
Your legs spread, bent at the knees, turning the toy on low and slowly lowering it onto your covered core. The hum is quiet, barely a tremble in the head of the wand when it meets the lacy fabric of your panties. A soft gasp escapes you at the feeling, it had felt like years since you'd been touched there. You move the toy up and down slowly, teasing yourself, little puffs of breath escaping you as you do.
With a click, the buzz intensifies, sliding the head upward to settle softly on your clothed clit. You whimper while your hips start to move slowly against the vibrations, the whirr of the toy filling your ears while your eyes shut. You keep yourself like this for a little, enjoying the slow sensation, the mild tease. You feel it start, like the hook looping into the first car of a roller coaster train, the first tug when the attendant hits 'go'.
“Huh!” you gasp out breathy while your hips twitch. Your lower lips start to swell against the gusset of your bottoms, slick building between them. A slow start. You savor it, a small smile pulling at your lips.
“Look so pretty like that, baby,” you hear his voice and gasp, tossing the toy next to you and snapping your legs shut. He smirks, a devilish chuckle bubbles from his chest, “Oh no, don’t let me interrupt. I said you could go play by yourself, and look at you…”
His voice raises in a lilt, while he sits on the bed. He passes you the wand and smiles, “You’re being such a good girl for me.”
“Go on,” he says with a nod, “Show daddy how you were playing.” You lean back on the pillows, opening up your legs again slowly. He glances between them, eyes flitting down to your mound briefly before meeting your eyes again, he subconciously licks his lips. You keep your legs up and bent up against your chest so he has a view, puffing out a soft sigh when you click the toy on again. He looks at you with a hazy gleam in his brown eyes, nodding slowly at you to remind you of his permission. You run it up your thigh before settling it back down on the center of your slit, letting the vibrations pulse over your entire core. "Hm," you hum out softly as your brows pinch together in a tilt. "Aw, yeah?" he coos out, "Does that feel good?"
"Mhm," you whine, lower lip tucked tight between your teeth. Yuo swallow when he reaches his hand out, smoothing over the soft plushness of your inner thigh. He squeezes, grinning when you let out a soft grunt with a twitch of your hips.
"You've been so patient this week," he purrs, "Such a good girl. Isn't that right?"
You nod hurriedly, watching his hand slide up your thigh, his index finger tracing up the hem of your underwear. It's a smooth hand off, watching his rings gleam in the bedside lamp when it wraps around the handle, both of your hands falling flat by your head. Your palms face the ceiling, matching your eyes when he turns up the vibrations. "Isn't that right, baby doll?" he asks, adding a gentle pressure up against you. Your pussy strains against the fabric the more excited you get, back already in a soft arch while you push into the mattress. "Y-yes, sir," you manage to mutter out. "No, no, that's not who I am tonight," he admonishes, still in a soft and steady voice, almost sweet -- like you don't understand anything. He takes the toy away; making you whimper, leaning up on your elbows behind you.
"You know how to address me," he says, a serpentine confidence flashing in his face, "You're a big girl, aren't you? Or do I have to teach you?"
You let out a shrill groan, head leaning back on it's hinge while your legs kick out in frustration in front of you.
"Hmm, of course," he says, getting up off the bed to pull off his shirt and slide off his sweats. His boxer briefs hug him in tight but it's there and it's missed you more than you've missed it this week, "You act like this and you don't think I should treat you like a little girl?"
You look up at him, bitten lower lip jutting out with a sheen of spit.
"So pouty, too," he coos, crawling onto the mattress between your parted thighs. He sits up on his knees, tall over your frame splayed out on the bed. He lifts one of your legs, pressing it flush against his chest so your foot rests by his ear.
"M'not pouty," you say back while his other hand reaches over your cheek with a light back before splaying over your jaw. His thumb brushes your lower lip before pressing on the dip at the center.
"Open," he instructs, you don't even think to stop yourself. You suck his thumb slow, letting your tongue lave over the length all the while. Spit fills your mouth, wet and eager, already inching at the corners of your mouth. You might as well drool. "Very good," he purrs again from the back of his throat, "Someone learned her lesson this week."
You nod, taking his wrist to steady his hand while you take more initiative with his thumb, implying what you really want.
"Don't get too ahead of yourself," he says lowly, taking his thumb from your mouth. He wipes the spit on your cheek before reaching back over to the wand, keeping your legs spread and holding thight to your thigh against his front.
Your hips shimmy when he holds the toy back in place, thumb running over the power button but not pressing down.
"Hey," he says, commanding, "Look up at me."
Your gaze snaps to his in unadulterated obedience, his distaste for even having to ask evident on his face, "You know better."
"I know better," you nod while you say it, confirming his words. "You do not ever stop looking at me," he glowers down.
"I don't ever stop looking at you," you repeat back, needy for whatever he has for you next. Your hips shimmy again, you try to stifle the whine in your throat but it comes out just the same; desperate and childish. "Oh, baby, do you need help asking for what you want?" his voice lilts, "Does daddy have to guess?" "Turn it on, please," you whisper. "Please what, princess?" he asks, voice mocking with a knowing stare, leaning down so your knee hooks over his shoulder. His chest hovers at an angle over you, chain and guitar pick dangling over your lips. "Please what?" he asks again. "Please daddy," you whine, "Please turn the toy on." "Look at those manners," he grins wickedly, "My sweet girl."
He turns it on, speed setting high with the flick of his finger. It rumbles loud, thighs already twitching while runs it back and forth over your sensitive clit. "Fuck," you gasp out, eyes rolling, "Oh my god, right there." "That's not a very nice word, sweetheart," he chastises, "What do you say?"
"S-sorr-Oh! Oh my god! Oh! -- Sorry, d--shitshitshitshit-- sorrysorrysorrysorry," you nearly cry when the cord in your belly snaps, gushing into the fabric against your core. He greedily keeps your thighs apart, watching while you come undone under him. You gulp when he doesn't take the toy away, your sensitive nerves screaming at the buzz of the vibrator. Your hips writhe and jump, trying to pull away from it all the while he's shaking his head no.
"Gotta hear that apology, princess," he murmurs, "Say sorry."
"Sorry daddy, I'm sorry," you babble out, "M'sorry I'll be so good, I'll be good." He let's out a satisfied hum, clicking the wand off and placing it gingerly on the bedside table. His hand lingers for a moment to make sure it doesn't roll off and then finds it's footing back on the mattress.
"You'll be so good?"
"So good," you nod when he settles back between your thighs. He crawls forward like a cat, pressing his hips slowly up against yours. You sigh needily when you feel the drag of his erection against you, whimpering when you see it affect him the same way. "Shit, baby," he smirks, trying not to break character while he grinds against you a second time, "Fuck." "That's not a very nice word," you tease back, looking up at him through heavy lids. "Well I'm not a very nice guy, am I?" he muses, leaning in to kiss you deeply before one hand reaches down to tug at your panties. You giggle, a sound that sends him reeling when he's in this kind of mood. "You're very nice," you whisper against his lips. "Hmm, yeah?" he growls, noses brushing while he lingers above you. He offers another roll of his hips right before he gets to work on pulling your panties down slipping them off of each ankle with ease. Undressed completely below him, he admires you. He hadn't seen you like this all week, finally getting what you've been waiting for. So patient, so willing. He runs his hands from shoulders to hips, greedy fingers digging into you rough and tumble, grabbing and kneading with disregard to comfort. "Daddy," you start, getting his attention in a voice that makes him ready to serve accordingly, "Fuck me."
A smirk splits his face, it's cute when you ask so brazenly when you're busy looking at him with those sad puppy eyes. "Please, fuck me," you reiterate while he readies himself, boxer briefs peeling off to leave him bare. Your soft gasp at the release of his cock is more of an ego trip than he expected to have, never realizing how much you truly need him like this. How you can really only get off to him, how you've submitted in every way you could. "Daddy's gonna fuck you, sweetheart," he says steadily, climbing back ontop of you, pressing your thighs to your chest, "God, m'gonna fuck you real good."
He leans in for another hungry kiss, ownership laced in his lips. When he breaks away you catch his chin in your hand, an action that makes him bristle, jaw clenching at your attempt at control.
"Fuck me like I've been bad," you request in a timbre so low he nearly melts at the sound, "Fuck me how you fuck bad girls."
He's never flipped you over so fast in your life.
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yourcutelittlegayfriend · 17 days ago
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✧✦✧ Chapter 2 ✧✦✧
A New Reset, An Old Story
Yandere Platonic Bat Family x Neglected Regressing GN Reader
Warning this part contains: low qual English + corny/cringey usage of it, lots of cursing, emotional stuff, weird hallucinations, and bad editing I guess? was someone there before? Can someone pick me up? MC is being weird.
Note: a bit longer part this time
MASTERLIST Pages ↻ 1 , 3 ...➣
NOW PLAYING ↻◁ ||▷↺ Mona Lisa - Nat King Cole lıılıılılılıılıılı
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How do you act when you feel like your day keeps repeating?.
Would you be content? to just go with the flow? to memorize each of your steps, actions or words?.
Or, would you go crazy? lose your mind and sanity? to see red dancing on the edge of your eyes if you keep remembering the shit that keeps happening to you?.
I would, especially if you went through what I did, all effort I did just gone with one bullet from a gun, from a high fall, a kidnapping gone wrong, get killed by a villian, a sword, a freak accident or maybe just one very very bad day.
Gripping my seatbelt I wait for Commissioner Gordon to open the car's door and let me out, stepping out of the police car with it's siren and lights off, I stand on the graveled road that leads to the stone steps of the old and dark mansion I knew too well.
A little scribbles pops in my vision roughly drawings and crossings on the mansion as if it's giving it an evil and snarling look of a giant man eating beast.
The older man gently stir me up to the porch and I watch as he ring the doorbell - The tiny mean words and drawings floating around the door flew away from the sound - on the side of the giant doors as we wait for anyone to answer.
Tensing when I heard someone's familiar shoes thudding on the otherside of the closed entrance, I step back as I grabbed Gordon's coat and braced myself to put up a new face again.
'By now Alfred should open the doors and be surprised to meet us'. a little tiny voice said by my ear as they hide behind my back- peeking over my shoulder as if they were scared even though they're not the one confronting them anyway.
As soon as they're guess was right, I observe the old event unfolding in front of me seeing Gordon hand Alfred a manila folder and show him what I knew was my DNA test, citizen papers and profile inside.
I stare blankly at Alfred who looked at me with slight pity and worry after he heard that Gordon personally escorted me here because I was supposed to be relocated to my biological father custody more than a few months ago.
'Would have prefer to stay there as well but the broody asshole insisted on one of the last resets and got my hopes up just to go back to becoming #1 fucked up dad on my list'
'Yeah! he's such an asshole!' The voice pipe up with a snort and a laugh while leaning on my shoulder.
I turn back to Commissioner Gordon one last time as he drove off as I sadly wave goodbye from the door before side eyeing the butler who was already watching me.
"Would you like some tea young master?". He kneels down and hold out a hand to me.
I stare at his face as I see glimpse of scratches around the air and scribbles on his face - crude lines to circle around his only slightly older look - a wobbly arrow to point at the small cracks of wrinkles on the edge of his eyes and a small older doodle of him from my old memories comparing his age before a glitch switching between a golden halo to devil horns floated above his head.
Blinking two times suddenly everything turned back to normal as I look at him again properly and I study his white gloved hand before grabbing it in a practiced motion as I keep on with the old scrip that I memorize long ago.
Walking close to him I follow as we pass long dark hallways that was only illuminated the flashing of lightning during the current storm and a few dark oakwood doors each one seemed taller and more menacing than the last as we entered a fairly large kitchen that I grew to love and spent most of my time in before.
He led me to an kitchen island with a marbled top so shiny I can see my face's reflection clearly along with a few stool chair with actual leather covers and I carefully climb before proceeding to watch him prepare me a tea and some of his prized cookies.
While waiting I got lost in my thoughts as I re-assess on what to do in this reset.
'What do I do now? does it even matter?'
'Do we even matter?' the small voice questioned in my ear.
I remember the times I try to use the past knowledge I have to get closer to them but........
'nothing really works for us anyway' again they reply with a murmur and lean on my shoulder.
No matter how hard I try, everything I sacrificed, anything I do nothing happens, sure there were some................. progress but I always get cut off by another death.
'We're just born to do this shit all over again' they spit out now with anger in their voice while I hear their teeth grinding together and their sharp nails digging on my skin.
If nothing else works then.......
Looking down at my bandage hand filled with little doodles from the other children in the orphanage and some cute yet old sticky cartoon bandaids, I relaxed my small hands on the flat marbled surface and breathe out.
I got nothing to lose, 2790 resets made me understand how dumb and starved I am for attention and love.
'So hungry and leaving us Starving-!' They groan and wail in pain before vanishing away.
Snapping my head up I see Alfred gently pushing a nice steaming cup of tea in front of me as well as some cookies on a plate.
I slowly reach out and take the cup before blowing on the warm tea then taking a tiny sip and relish the hidden memories that this tea have brought me.
As I stare at my reflection I see it ripples as my hands shake and my body soon followed as I sniffled and hiccup, Alfred the ever gentleman that he is carefully took a hold of the tea cup as I cry finally cry out.
I cry till my eyes are puffy, I cry as let all the pain I have endured for so long, I cry out and childishly try to wipe off my snot as I asked for my mother to come back.
I cry because
I can.
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After finishing my tea and the cookies Alfred asked me if I wanted to wait for 'my father' before I go to my 'new' bedroom.
I see them in the corner as the shadows collects on that side and rise up to reach the ceiling 'They' shook their head and blared a large rough 'X' in the air then disappear with a flash of lighting coming through from the large windows.
"No,...... it's fine maybe tomorrow". I said looking down before turning up to Alfred and set my plan in motion.
"Mr. Alfred?". I asked as I gently tugged on his slacks making him look down to me.
"Yes young master?". He angles down to me as he put away the dried dishes.
I see 'their' wide and sharky smile behind Alfred's shoulder before popping back down his back.
"Can I stay with you?". I asked tightening my hold on him.
'From now on, nothing else matters except you.........If we can't get a family out of this shitty one then We'll make a new one' They murmur down while twirling a small baby hair on my nape.
But first-
We'll have to prepare for a little reunion.
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U I A U I A A U U I I A
Taglist later because I'm now entertaining food coma bleh *dies*
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fraugwinska · 9 months ago
Note
I'm dying to see you write Alastor opening up to Reader about his mom, maybe a little angst and lots of fluff? (- v -)''
WE NEED THAT MOMMAS BOY GETTING SOME COMFORT!
Finally Anon, I found the strengh to write this. Sorry it took so long - I hope it was worth the wait! Next story will be less sad, I promise! :'< But I think we can all find some love for our Mommas Boy today, right? (Prepare your handkerchiefs, fellas...)
❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️
Mother O'Mine
Not the kitchen. Not the lobby. Not the bar. Not the radio tower. Not his room.
You sighed and stilled for a moment, thinking of a place where he could've gone.
If Angel had just shut his damn mouth. Mother's day was a shit day for everyone in the hotel. You, who never knew a mother, raising yourself in the farce that had been the foster care system, rued the day. Charlie was still in denial about her mothers blatant absence and ignorance, Husk melancholic and tense at the memory of seeing his mother being exterminated shortly after reuniting with her in hell, and Vaggie bitterly wanted to ignore the holiday all together, feeling as though she would be betraying the mother she could no longer reach in heaven as a fallen angel.
Angel had been pissing them all off by breakfast, obnoxiously mocking their various reasons of why this day felt even heavier than others in hell. You knew it was his own way of coping with his mommy issues - something he didn't even talk about with Husk, as far as you knew, but he bordered on being not only menacing, but outright cruel.
Alastor had listened to his rambling stoically, flipping eggs while drinking his coffee with not much more than an annoyed twitch in his brow, but then the spider made the gruesome mistake to mention her.
Alastor's mom.
"What, 'ya think any of 'ya mothers could even look at 'ya without punchin' themselves? Come on, look me in the eyes and tell me Bambi's mommy wouldn't be fuckin' disappointed by what her little fawn has become... Can ya really see a sweet southern lady all happy, lovin', and coddling ol' murder-clown Alas..."
The green explosion came faster than you could blink. You were frozen in place, only staring in fear and worry when Angel landed unceremoniously into the table with the rest of the breakfast, the other residents as shocked and dazed as you were, while the radio static and greenish-black shadows seeped away from Alastor who then swiftly made his way out without a word, holding his staff while his tendrils bristled dangerously.
Alastor had vanished and the only thought coming to your mind - after giving a cursing, groaning Angel a righteous 'You fucking deserved that'-speech - was that you needed to find him before the princess did to make sure the demon had calmed enough not to finally lose it and maul her to pieces. Charlie meant well, but she didn't know. No one did know, except for you, and even you only knew so much.
It's not like it had been an elaborate talk. It just happened, after a nightmare that made him tear up in a mixture of rage and sorrow, a bad memory that had made his shadow basically drag you, half asleep still, from your bed to his in the middle of the night. Why you? You weren't so sure. Alastor usually preferred your company more than the others just because you were the most neutral, sane person in the hotel. Some would even say impassive. An introvert who didn't draw attention, silent and observing. But not once had his shadow ever acted up around you, and while it wasn't overly friendly with anyone, it seemed to watch mostly you with curious glances and interested hisses. When you had finally woken up enough to comprehend your situation, you were sprawled across Alastors stomach with his arms wound so tightly around you you struggled to breathe, strained mumbled words pressed through gritted teeth into your nightgown.
"Mother... I'm sorry... Oh mother..."
He had been sobbing into your shoulders and and shaking against your chest while he let go of a strange anger and grief he never seemed to get rid of while you had, confused but worried, whispered words of comfort in a hushed, soothing voice until you both dozed back to sleep. Morning broke, and when you opened your eyes again, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, not able to look you in the eyes. He had thanked you, gruffly and with an unsteady voice that made your heart ache, before offering his hand to teleport you back to your room. As far as you were concerned, the weirdest of it was that you felt him caress the palm of your hand with his thumb, barely audible as he mumbled that "that should have never have happened, and we shall never speak of it again." - he was usually a gentleman, and he never touched you this intimately before - but, to him, it was obviously a humiliating and horrible thing that you had witnessed him like that.
And you didn't speak of it. No one knew, and you intended to keep it that way. It was a moment you shared and fragile trust was on the table. You would take it to your second grave, along with all those feelings that had come with it, to prevent it from breaking.
Back to the present, you sighed and massaged the bridge of your nose. You had checked all the obvious places that crossed your mind, so maybe, you should start to look at the not-so-obvious ones... Maybe some place you knew was connected to... His mom...
A sudden pang hit you as you got an idea of where he might be hiding.
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"Is this seat taken?"
The roof of the hotel was usually restricted from access, due to the general instability and collapse-prone architecture it presented, but you and (after an admittedly awkward encounter on a hot day that had involved you in a two-pieced swimsuit sunbathing and a very flustered Alastor with a book in one and a severed hand on a plate in the other hand) the radio demon knew about a small nook between the roof's overhead window frames and the hotel's ventilation system, hidden by the growing shadow of the radio tower where no one else ever came looking. A hideout, a place to go when you wanted undisturbed solitude. You had quickly left the place, apologizing for intruding a space that Alastor had apparently already claimed for himself (explaining the existence of the lounge chair you've so rudely used), but soon enough he discreetly invited you back, second chair added, to sit in silence together every once in a while, as long as you swore secrecy. It became a place of comfort for both of you, a retreat when life in the hotel got too stressful.
Alastor's reaction to seeing you was a quickly stifled hum before going back to staring stubbornly at the horizon. He looked dejected, and if you would not have known him so well, you wouldn't have noticed the trembling twitch of his ears nor the way his claw tapped impatiently against his knee, his shadow balled in on itself while hovering at the edge of the small roof.
It looked like he was staring straight through the distant buildings of the pentagram to the faintly illuminated orb that was heaven next to hells own sun, while also refusing to acknowledge you or the world around him at all. His smile had slipped into an emotionless line of pursed lips.
"That depends" he mused quietly. "Are you here to make me return to that insolent arachnid and attempt a 'healing' conversation?"
"I think you know I know that I couldn't even if i wanted to." You tried a weak smile.
Alastor briefly met your eyes at that, giving away that, despite his aloof act, your comment got his attention and he considered it before turning back to the horizon, the tense posture relaxing somewhat. A brief silence passed until he hummed an affirmative noise. "Then you may sit, darling."
After sitting down, minutes passed without a word said. The distant roar of the bustling traffic carried the muffled sounds of hell with the usual maelstrom of catcalling, profanities and general noises of mayhem to you, while you fought to keep a certain twitch in your hands as you counted the beats of his heels clicking on the tiles.
"You must know... my mother was a rare light in a world of filth." he declared suddenly into the silence. "An honest, virtuous soul of beauty and strength." He said it slowly and, surprisingly, completely unamused, the clacking of his shoes ceasing at once. He stared at the city in contempt, hands clasped together and resting on his legs to hold back a tremble that you caught anyway.
"She, unlike me, had not a spec of corruption in her bones. Wherever she found the warmth and love she shared with me, I cannot fathom. But she did. I may have been mocked and shunned by the world, the bastard child of a black woman and a white man, but I always had her as my home to return to.” The knuckles on his hands turned white. “But the cruelty of life and the disgusting human that was my father, the unbearable excuse of a man, killed her before I was grown enough to help. Before I was old enough to kill that monster myself." He spat the words, claws digging deeper until a faint trickle of blood could be seen. "I remedied that circumstance, twice to be exact, although it couldn't make up for what was lost. Nothing I did to him could make up for it..." his smile widened bitterly as his face twitched, recalling a fond, yet regretful memory. "… and believe me, I tried. But it was cathartic nonetheless, and quite educational... for my further career."
You stayed quiet and studied his profile, patiently waiting for him to continue talking. It was painfully obvious how hard it was for him to speak about actual feelings, with his tense grin and his white knuckles dripping with crimson blood.
"I knew, of course, where I would end up after my demise, and that I would never be able to see her again. Because I was sure she'd end up in heaven, like the saint she was. Is." He cleared his throat, attempting to appear dismissive, but you saw it. The sadness, the longing, the resignation, and it shattered your heart.
"Alastor...", you knew he hated physical touch, but your hand reached out on its own, to stop his hands from ripping themselves apart. He stiffened at the contact, but said nothing.
"Don't tell me you took what Angel said to heart..."
"How could my mother love me after what I've become after her death?"
His tone was monotonous, but his hands trembled under your fingers. He refused to look at you, but you saw his eyes, glazed with wetness that threatened to turn into actual tears. How he could still smile was beyond you, you had your theories on that, but that wasn't important right now. What mattered was that he was hurting, and that fact broke your heart. You never knew motherly love, how could you really miss something you never really knew? But Alastor did, and it had been ripped from him in the must cruel way, the impact of it so hard it made him even question the very foundation it was built upon.
You moved your hand from his to cup his cheek and turn his face to yours. His expression was blank, and if it weren't for the tight grin and the eyes filled with an unspeakable anguish, it would have been an emotionless stare.
"Alastor, do you know the poem Mother O'Mine?"
"I'm afraid the memory of it fails me, darling."
"Then, I'll recite it for you."
"Why?"
You gave him a sad smile.
"Because I want to."
He eyed you with stunned curiosity as you reached into your pocket, glad for once for your mostly useless power. You've only told Husk about it, in one of your late nights where everyone else was asleep aside him and your insomnia got the better of you, drunk and as a bargaining chip for one last gin tonic.
The blank piece of paper was a bit crumpled, but it would do. You started to fold it while you spoke, your voice sounded soft and almost like a spell.
"If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!"
Your fingers moved with a solemn purpose as you folded the paper this way and that, a skill you perfected out of boredom over the years, the edges turning into an elegant shape, the poem coming from your mouth like a song. Alastor watched your hands move in a trance, not sure what you were doing, but too focused on the faint glow of purple around them to ask.
"If I were drowned in the deepest sea, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! I know whose tears would come down to me, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!"
There in your hand, sat a little origami bird. It wasn't anything special, maybe a traditional crane would have been better, more elegant, but you were out of practice and for what you intended to do it would work either way. Carefully you reached out, silently demanding for one of Alastor's hands that were still digging into each other. He didn't protest, and slowly raised it to give his hand to you. The tips of his claws were covered in a thin, fresh layer of his own blood, and his skin was warm and slightly clammy. You put the little paper bird on his palm, a speck of his blood staining the bottom of the pristine white paper, and closed his fingers around it, holding it in both of yours.
"If I were damned of body and soul, I know whose prayers would make me whole, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine."
His enclosed hand in your own was encased in purple light, with wide eyes he followed the soft tugs of your fingers and opened his hand. The little paper bird flapped it's wings on his flat palm, looking at him for a heartbeat before taking off and flew in a singular circle around his head before it headed into hells deep red sky, towards the bright heavenly sphere. You watched it until it vanished completely from view, hoping there was a possibility that maybe, with a bit of luck, it would find it's way to her.
"This, Alastor, is what a real mother is. She loves you, I'm sure of it. Always has and always will."
Tears fell silently on his lap, a strangled, coarse breath escaping him. Without warning, he pulled you from your chair into him, holding you pressed close to him. Just like in the night of his nightmare, his face was buried in your chest, arms wound tightly around you in a hurting embrace and shoulders trembling with suppressed grief. His grip was bordering on painful, but you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying one of your hands in his hair, stroking gently while you let him quietly cry into your shoulder, not caring that the wetness of his tears was soaking through the fabric of your shirt. You felt his heart beating rapidly, his pulse erratic and his breathing fast.
"I miss her. Oh, how I miss her."
You held him tighter.
"I know, Al... I know."
You didn't know how long you two stayed like this, him in your arms and crying silently while you tried your best to comfort him, but you didn't care. As far as you were concerned, you would stay here forever if it only meant to lift this weight for a little while from his shoulders.
It took him some time, but eventually his breathing evened out, and he calmed down, his hold becoming less desperate and more... affectionate. You didn't realize it at first, but he had moved, his head resting under your chin and his forehead leaning against the hollow of your throat, his antlers slightly poking the thin skin. It felt strangely intimate, and you wondered if he was aware of what he was doing, but the moment he moved to get up and leave, you knew the spell was broken. He didn't let go of you entirely, but instead helped you to stand up and held your hand, his gaze firmly planted to the ground, avoiding your eyes.
"Darling, I..."
"Don't worry, Alastor. Although I'm glad I was able to be here when it happened... we shall never speak of this again."
You could feel his hesitation, a strange nervousness radiating from him. His shadow hovered next to him, a hand reaching out towards your face. You smiled at it, and, just for a brief moment, allowed yourself to lean into it's warm, buzzing touch as it caressed your cheek, before you turned and made your way back inside without a glance back to the sudden sound of a longing hum.
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hiyashortking · 3 months ago
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You Catch Lucifer Masturbating
Disclaimers and credit: read this post before reading any of my content, please.
Premise: Inspired by @venomhound's prompt list found here for the prompt: you catch them masturbating. My tenses are all fucked up in this one and I've chosen not to edit it to make sure it all matches ✌️.
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Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He’d forgotten that he asked you to stop by when you had a moment this week to drop off some bullshit he didn’t actually care about. He was just looking for an excuse to see you again, especially against the backdrop of his room. But depression and trauma do some fucked up shit to one’s brain because he forgot this scheme and left his door unlocked, and you came wandering in when he had his cock in his hand and your panties on his face.
How did he get your panties? A story for another time …
On the bright side, he temporarily cured himself of his desperate want to be around you. If someone had told him last month that he’d be actively avoiding you and would actually go back to his old place to get away from you, he would have put money on it. Unless it was Husk, of course. He was bordering on being obsessed with you, so desperate for just a glance at your face most days. And now? Hiding in shame.
The King of Hell, hiding from a simple little undead. It would be laughable if it wasn’t so pathetic.
You knocked on his door.
Like the true diva he was, he was in his bed eating ice cream and chocolates, surrounded by the fluffiest of his duckies. The only thing he’d managed to get out of bed for every day was his long, hot as fuck shower, during which he would not allow himself to stroke his cock. Punishment was something Lucifer had been taught well, and now he was enacting it on himself.
You knocked again.
He cleared his throat. A “who is it” came out with a squeak, which made him clear his throat and ask again in a tone with more authority.
“Hey, it’s me. I will never not knock again, I promise.”
How could you even joke about this?
W-wait, it was YOU at the door?
He jumped out of bed and fumbled around, trying to make his room look cleaner. He opened the window for fresh air, but the air of hell wasn’t fresh at all so he’d closed it again.
“I hope it’s okay, Charlie let me into the palace."
“Y-yes, of course. I’ll be right there. Is-is Charlie with you?” Where were his clothes? He wore the same fucking outfit every day for millennia, one would think it would be easy to get quickly dressed. The closet! Of course, that’s where clothes would be!
“She and Vaggie are downstairs. I didn’t tell her what happened but she got worried when she called you and you didn’t pick up. She said you’d done that in the past but that you’d been really attentive to her lately so she wanted to make sure you were okay …”
Running a hand through his hair, he opened the door and leaned with the other hand on the doorframe, trying to obscure your vision of his bedroom. He looked as gorgeous as always. Since you hadn’t seen him in a while, his smile seemed even prettier today. His hair looked so soft, you wanted to reach out and run your own fingers through it. He smelled amazing. Why hadn’t you ever realized how form-fitting his clothes were? You felt as if you were seeing him for the first time.
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“Hey, bitch,” he says, and immediately regrets it. But his smile only falters for a second.
You chuckle. He always makes you smile and laugh like a fool. “Well, you seem to be doing just fine! I don’t know why Charlie and I were so worried!”
He imitates your chuckle and tries to push away memories of why he is avoiding you. But wait- shouldn’t he be apologizing? His smile disappears when his thoughts race of what you must have thought and how he probably made you feel and-
“Y/N, I am so, so, so, sososososo sorry,” he lets out, almost as if his body deflates with each sound. His tail is out and literally between his legs.
“It’s o-”
He steps toward you abruptly and closes his door behind him. “Let’s sit down,” he takes your hand absent-mindedly as he focuses on which room to bring you into. Not his office. Not the librar- maybe the library? Didn’t you love reading? Maybe he could distract you with all the books!
He only realizes he is holding your hand when you’re at the center of one of his smallest, coziest libraries. “Oh fuck, oh shit, I’m so sorry I didn’t realize-”
“Lucifer, stop!” You plead.
He takes a deep, sharp inhale, his face awake with surprise, holds the breath, and releases it slowly, tilting his head up and relaxing his shoulders as he does.
“Thank you,” you say in unison, and then grin like the fools you both are.
“Please sit down,” he says as he does the same on the sofa across from yours. “May I get you something to drink?”
You noticed there were servants downstairs who were catering to the princess and her partner but who did not follow you up to the second floor.
“I’m just happy to see you, I’ve been struggling to think about anything else since you left.”
You’d been thinking about him since he left? He’d been gone for weeks!
“I’m so sorry to have worried you. As you can see, I am fine and dandy. Well- not entirely dandy, I’m obviously very much attracted to all the genders- I mean-”
Fuck, you missed him. One second the picture of elegance, and the next tripping over his words. When you caught him stroking his cock, with your used underwear on his face, you let yourself lean into all of the thoughts you hadn’t allowed when you assumed it would be impossible to be on his radar. And then he had the audacity to disappear, leaving you alone with just your fantasies.
Though you called him several times, you did doubt the situation you had seen. He was the King of Hell! Why would he be interested in you, all of being in hell? Maybe he just had a panty fetish and it didn’t mean anything that they were yours. Did this feel personal because it was, or because you desperately wanted it to be?
Wait, what was he saying?
“I’m so sorry to have worried you. As you can see, I am fine and dandy. Well- not entirely dandy, I’m obviously very much attracted to all the genders- I mean- wait- is dandy still an insinuation of being gay? Was it ever? Anyway, I’m not fully gay! Obviously! I mean-”
He was so fucking cute. You could listen to him ramble all day. “I honestly didn’t think you were going to see me, so I didn’t think about what I would say if you did. I’m just really happy to see you. I’m sorry I didn’t think this through more. I just want to be in the same room as you again.”
It wasn’t difficult to stun this man into a moment of silence, but the silence rarely lasted. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, I wanted to give you some space. I am obviously deeply apologetic for my behavior.” 
Was he struggling to look at you? Is the most powerful man in all of hell blushing and avoiding your eyes? Fuck, why was this turning you on?
“Please tell me if there is anything, anything in all of Hell I can do to gain your forgiveness. I will, of course, entirely understand if it would be impossible for you to forgive me, but I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t at least ask.”
“Luci, may we be blunt?”
He nodded.
“What exactly do you want me to forgive you for?”
What? What exactly? For being a creepy, rude, disrespectful, vile, impish-
“I think I want some clarity about why you think I’m upset with you,” you added.
“Well, you- … I- ... wasn’t what I did bad?”
“Bad?”
He hated how the thoughts I’ve been a bad boy intruded into his mind, but here he fucking was again, with his fucking trauma getting in the way of a new relationship, not to mention how fucking cliche. Wait- a possible relationship? You were here, seeking him out, confessing to thinking about him, not being mad at him for crossing boundaries, maybe not even wanting those boundaries to begin with? Was he letting some fucked up negative core belief about being "bad", whatever the fuck that meant, ruin something he could have with you?
“Oh, Luci,” you rose from your spot and kneeled in front of him as you would if you wanted to help a child feel less intimidated. “Can we just forget this happened? Maybe not all of it, because it led me to assuming I might have a chance with you. So, I guess, let’s maybe just keep the part where you might be attracted to me, and forget any other misconceptions?”
“A chance with me?”
You nodded and waited patiently for him to process.
“You would want a chance with me?”
You nod again, smiling. Waiting.
How had he only then realized you were on your knees in front of him?
He slid from the couch to join you on the floor, and scooped you up with ease to settle you sideways in his lap. He couldn’t think of you on your knees just then.
He felt welcomed by you, but realized that wasn’t consent. “Is this okay?” he asked.
“Yes, Luci, you can touch me anytime you like and you can touch any part of me you’d like to touch. I love, love, love being touched,” you emphasized. "Is it okay if I touch you, too?" you asked him.
Baffled, he nodded. "Yes. My word! Yes, enthusiastically! Yes, please!"
Did this grown ass man just quiver?
Oh shit, were you feeling him getting hard?
You seemed to share a brain cell in that moment because he apologized again, his arms loosely around you. “I haven’t- … done what you’d seen me doing- … since that day, so my body is-”
Whenever he got shy and apologetic, you wanted to respond with nurturing, but this time a second feeling won over and you laughed and hid your face in his neck.
“Lucifer Morningstar, you were so upset that I might think the King of Hell is immoral that you haven’t come in weeks?” The ridiculousness was too much to bear. Fuck, and he smelled amazing. You let yourself nuzzle into him, enjoying the feeling of his flesh. Did he have flesh? What were y’all made of down here? You rubbed your nose gently against his neck, enjoying how even the slightest touch connected you.
“That is correct,” was almost the truth, as he did not take responsibility for the things his body did while he was sleeping.
He let himself lean against the sofa a bit, enjoying you snuggling against him. He closed his eyes and tried his best to relax. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Breathe in-
“You amusing, wonderful little fool,” you whispered, and when you did your lips brushed against his neck, and you were certain then that he had shivered.
You were not making it easy for him to settle down. You often wondered how he managed to go from tense to relaxed and then back to tense so easily. And these were his reactions when you were on your best behavior. How would he respond if you intentionally teased him? Shhh, brain, not now, you pleaded with yourself.
“Not everything about me is little,” he said back with some confidence.
“I know, remember?” You move your head to see his face. Fuck, you weren’t supposed to bully him! The man was vulnerable! Could you just chill for today?!
“Ugh!” he groaned. Had he been blushing before that remark, or was it only just now?
Seeing your smile helped ease him again and he wondered aloud, “maybe I need to walk in on you touching yourself thinking about me, so we can be even?”
“That would be challenging since I don’t really masturbate.”
“You don’t mas- what?”
“I prefer fucking.”
“You prefer fucking?”
“Yes, or being pleasured by someone else. I must just not be good at it or something, I’m not a big fan of solo play.”
“You’re not-”
“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?” You chuckle, realizing you’d been obliviously playing with his hair. You had the fingers of one hand at the back of his head, tugging gently and releasing, while the other battled with his hair's softness in the front, refusing to stay put where you'd wanted it to be.
“I might just, until something you say doesn’t wildly surprise me.”
You take pride in being able to surprise someone who came into existence at the beginning of time.
You’re also glad he positioned you this way in his lap, so you could more easily hide how wet this exchange was making you. What the fuck was your kink, powerful men being vulnerable? You couldn’t have just been into feet or something? Great, now there was an image of Lucifer kissing your feet in your brain. In boots. That he bought for you. With his endless hell currency. Fuck.
“I guess I’ll have to abstain a little longer," he mused. "Because now all I want is to turn you on so much that you can’t stop touching yourself.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
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w0ndrlvst · 3 months ago
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if you're riding the high from parkourciv and are interested in more cool minecraft webseries then OH BOY do i have some to show you!
Whitepine!!!
Period piece drama/mystery about a newly appointed maid, Ivory, as she learns to serve a rich family.
It's not at all "minecrafty" which i think makes it super accessible for people who LOVEEE movies but cannot stand the clickbaity vineboomy vibes of other minecraft rps. if you were a dsmp fan you're gonna fuck with this HARDDD.
This is a SLOW BURN but shit gets tense real quick if ur patient.
Beautiful editing and shot composition, some of the best cinematography ever. Gorgeous color grading too!!!
Interesting and incredibly likable main character, I think Ivory's timid demeanor will be relatable to a lot of people.
The writing is really sophisticated and it genuinely feels like ur watching like a regular period drama at some points which again i love because it doesn't feel 'minecrafty.'
If ur familiar with mcyt then ur def gonna recognize like almost all of the cameos lololol
I don't see as much hype for Whitepine outside of certain circles and its painfully underrated!! please please please check it out!!!
Andrewgaming67
HEAVY content warning: this is a series that discusses topics involving suicide and related subjects. tread with caution!!!
If you frequent creepypasta/internet horror spaces then this is def a name you recognize
Horror series where we follow Andrew explore his old Minecraft worlds, discusses his internet friend Chris, and discovers lingering supernatural entities that haunt these old worlds.
I particularly like how Andrew is written, he feels very grounded and his reactions don't feel over-dramatic.
Theres a few scares that are a little bit jumpy, but most of the them are atmospheric, "blink or you'll miss it" kind of vibes. Any sound effects that accompany the jumpscares are (from my knowledge) natural minecraft noises which makes them less cheap imo.
It gets like...genuinely really sentimental? Idk how else to describe it the story just hits a lot of really touching emotional beats and it took me by surprise. theres some genuinely gut wrenching scenes.
Out of all the internet horror that i've seen using minecraft Andrewgaming is hands down my favorite. So so so much fun to follow and get spooked by and lots of stuff literary stuff to analyze if ur a nerd like that (<- me).
If you happen to have any other series u wanna reccomend you are more than welcome to!!!!
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show-your-fangs · 2 years ago
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I request very politely, you better continue the camgirl story with all the smut there is or I'm suing 😫 Some proper thigh action would be nice 🤭
there's no thigh riding in this one, but it will happen i promise my darling, i owe you and i will deliver.
The Contract | Sugar Daddy!Aaron Hotchner
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The Secrets We Keep (a Bunny and Clyde story) - Part Two
Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Aaron Hotchner x BAU/cam girl!Reader
Words: 5.6k
CW: 18+, mdni, nsfw.
Tags/warnings: D/s relationship, master!hotch x sub!reader, sex work (is real work), power imbalance/play, reader works at the bau and is a secret cam girl, hotch is a customer, pet names (bunny, sweet girl, good girl), (semi public) mutual masturbation, cum play, aftercare (is important istfg).
a/n: this fucking series and i...holy shit i cannot get enough of it. it's all i think about every day, i just can't stop thinking about them. my apologies to moments, it has been dethroned in my heart.
Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.
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His lips were on you just as quickly as his hands. 
It was overwhelming, your legs practically going numb as he pulled you into his room, all you could think to do was desperately try to deepen the kiss. He didn’t hold back, he couldn’t hold back, even if he wanted to, and thankfully you didn’t want that either. 
You opened your mouth for him as his hands ran down your back to grab your ass, greedy, possessive, as if it had always belonged to him. He pulled you off the ground, maneuvering your legs to wrap around his waist. You obeyed without question, your legs holding onto him tightly as your arms hooked behind his neck. 
It was a fervor of tongues clashing, teeth grazing, hands digging into soft skin. His finger nails dug harshly into your plush ass, eliciting a squeal from your throat. He groaned into the kiss in response, swiftly walking back towards the king size bed in his room and slamming you down on it. 
You moaned into his mouth, the roughness only getting you going even more. He was sure he was living a dream, his heart beating so fast it was sure to explode. He pressed his body down over yours, enveloping you whole with his weight, keeping you trapped between him and the mattress.
It wasn’t that he thought you would escape, it was more that he didn’t even want to give you the option. You ground your hips into his crotch then, desperate hands trying to rip his shirt off his back. 
He pulled back from the kiss, making sure to bite down on your bottom lip and tug as far as he was able before you tensed under him. Only then did he let go, swiftly pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere in the dark room. 
You were panting hard, your ears were ringing, your chest and face were most definitely flushed crimson. You could feel him press his crotch into yours, hard, stiff, warm. So warm it almost made you melt into him. 
Your hands immediately traced over his back, fingers gliding over every muscle, every ride, every dimple. His own returned to your body just as hungrily, his fingers gently tracing down your chin, your neck, your arms, your sides, before they made their home on your hips, squeezing them experimentally to gauge your reaction.
You hummed, running your own arms down his chest to pull him closer to you once more. This was everything, it was too much, having your boss so close, so warm against your core, so desperate and needy for you, just like user1102, was making your head feel dizzy with pleasure.
“Please, Master,” you whined. “I need—”
Your stomach growled loudly then, reminding you that you were actually starving.
You couldn’t help the giggle that erupted out of your mouth and into his, his own lips curling into a soft smile as he pressed them to yours one final time before he detached himself completely from your body. 
You sat yourself up, eyes watching his every move like a hawk. He turned on the light, the faint glow from the one at the entrance of his room not enough as he now needed the entire room to be bathed in it, to sober him up enough to be able to restrain himself from taking you right then and there. 
He turned to face you the second that it did, to fully take you in, to make sure that it hadn’t been a dream. You were still there, still panting softly, still looking at him with those round, expressive eyes he adored. 
“When did you figure it out?” you asked him softly, clearly eager to fill the overwhelming silence that had taken over the room. 
He walked over to the mini bar and poured a glass of water before he finally addressed you. 
“I started to suspect the day you hit your foot at the office.”
Your eyes widened immediately, your cheeks flushing in response as you remembered that you’d seen him that same night…privately. You fell back on the bed, hands covering your face in embarrassment. 
“No!” you whined. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
You felt him walk back over to the bed and sit on the other side, far away and yet incredibly close. 
“I wasn’t sure,” he replied, gently nudging you to look at him. 
You took a short, steadying breath before you let your hands slip away from your face, eyes finally adjusting and making out the glass of water and sandwich he’d bought for himself in his hands. 
You smiled brightly, the prospect of Hotch, of your boss, of user1102 taking care of you, made your heart flutter. You got up to your knees, carefully taking the two items before you settled criss cross on the bed in front of him. 
“What about now?” you asked him in between gulps of water, remembering all the other times he’d watched you drink it diligently after a particularly demanding scene. “What do you want now that you know?”
He took the glass back from you and placed it on the bedside table once it was empty. “Good girl,” the words spilled out of his mouth out of habit and you immediately stilled, the heat in your lower belly slowly starting to build back up.
He noticed your reaction, subtle and yet it made him feel like the most powerful person in the world. 
“We shouldn’t,” he stated as a matter of fact. “Not right now.”
Your face immediately fell into a deep pout, almost unconsciously looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. He sighed deeply, looking down to break the spell you clearly had him under, his hands clutching onto the bed covers tightly. 
“The things I want to do to you, sweet girl,” his voice was strained, hoarse, heavy on his chest. You were practically buzzing with anticipation, one second away from allowing your judgement to lapse and leap across the bed into his arms. 
But you knew he was right. You knew you shouldn’t rush into this, as much as you trusted him, as much as you knew him, as much as he made your heart practically leap out of your chest with a simple glance.
You didn’t have a lot of time, your mind already racing with excuses to give Emily if you found her still awake when you got back to the room. 
“I want,” he started, voice calm, collected, clear. “I want to be your Dom, bunny.” He watched your reaction to his words like a hawk. Your entire body tensed, all the memories of your encounters over the past few months crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Only you weren’t drowning, but rather being filled with so much air it was overwhelming.
Your gaze met his, the rest of his face devoid of any emotion, and yet his brown eyes were overflowing with them. He was terrified, positively horror-stricken about how you may react, about losing not only your friendship but also the outlet of release he’d grown to depend on. 
But instead, you just beamed at him. You threw your things on the mattress before you shot back up to your knees and shuffled across the bed towards him. 
He let you, his heart going so fast he couldn’t feel his arms or legs. You sat yourself over his lap, arms wrapping around his neck again before your lips were on his. It was a soft kiss, so soft he almost thought it hadn’t happened. But then it did again, and again, and again, and again, and soon enough you were devouring him in the sweetest kisses he’d ever experienced.
His heart swelled, his hands shooting up to wrap around your back, pressing you tightly against him once more. “Is that a yes?”
“Enthusiastically,” you smiled before leaning back down to place another kiss on his now puffy lips. 
And just like that, he had everything.
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You returned to your room soon after, sandwich in hand and dizzy with happiness. He’d asked you to text him when you made it back, a small test to gage just how enthusiastic you were about this, and you hadn’t disappointed him, going as far as to reassure him that you really, really, really wanted this.
Aaron couldn’t sleep that night, he couldn’t get his mind to stop racing, his heart to calm down, his excitement to dwindle enough for him to even close his eyes. The adrenaline coursing through his veins was more powerful than after he’d run a marathon, and he needed to channel it into something or else he was going to go crazy.
He thought about touching himself, about relieving the ache in his crotch, but he’d told you not to even think about touching yourself, wanting to frustrate you just enough until the two of you entered an official agreement. And so he didn’t do it either, it was only fair.
Instead he sat himself at the small desk that came with the room and he wrote. He wrote everything he could think of, everything he wanted to do to you, how he wanted to take you, how he wanted to take care of you, how he wanted to punish you, how he wanted to dominate you. 
He wrote until his alarm sounded and the sun started to fill the world outside in a faint warm glow. He wrote until Dave was knocking on his door to make sure he was alright. It was only then, when he’d finished writing everything, that he snapped back into reality, got himself ready for the day, and stepped out to meet the rest of the team. 
He’d made sure to keep you as far away from him the entire day, not trusting himself to not linger, to not lose focus, to not give himself a single reason to take you in the precinct bathroom. 
You had a suspect in custody by early afternoon, and he’d made sure to keep you in the precinct with Reid, where you were safe. He was sure you knew why he’d made the call, it was pretty obvious and would definitely be one of the things that the two of you had to discuss. 
But it didn’t matter, at least not right now. You didn’t even think to disobey, didn’t even think about the fact that he was definitely doing this because of everything that had happened the night before, didn’t even begin to let the new dynamic between the two of you settle. You’d been distracted all day, desperately trying to not allow your feelings for him to show. 
It was dark by the time you boarded the plane back to Quantico, everyone pretty much determined to get some rest before you made it back. The couch was the first to go, Morgan and Reid fighting over it like children until Morgan won out, immediately plopping down on it and turning his headphones on high. 
Rossi and Spencer took up the single seats facing the bathroom and kitchen while Emily and JJ took up a double seater, leaving you and Aaron at the head of the plane alone. You sat next to the window by yourself, as far away from JJ and Emily as you could just in case he had other plans than sleeping. 
It took everything in him to not sit down next to you right away, the action would’ve been too obvious with all the empty seats around. And so for the first twenty minutes of the flight, you sat alone, waiting, trying to distract yourself by looking out the window. 
He’d been staring at you relentlessly, impatiently waiting for the plane to stabilize in the air before thinking about approaching. He’d sat himself down at the perfect angle to watch you, his laptop light being the only one illuminating the otherwise pitch black plane. 
He’d been reading the contract again, making sure that whatever he’d written in his sleep deprived and incredibly horny state was actually coherent, and properly worded before sending it to you. 
Once he was sure everyone else was asleep, once he made sure that everything was worded as clearly as possible since there was no need for any twisted legal jargon, once he made sure that he was calm and collected enough, he hit send and watched as your phone lit up on the table beside you. 
Your attention was finally brought back to the room, your hand shakily picking up the device before you saw what he’d sent you. He’d been smart to send it to your encrypted chat instead of to your official email, but it didn’t make it any less daunting, the lines between you and Aaron, and bouncingbunny1 and user1102 officially blurring. 
You didn’t even dare glance in his direction, terrified of what it would do to you when you caught a glimpse of just how pent up he was. Instead you opened the file and began reading. 
To say he was thorough was an understatement. You knew Aaron never did things halfway, never did things without thinking them through, and he’d clearly been thinking about this for a while. 
He’d confessed early on in your private sessions that he’d never done anything like this before, never demanded complete control over someone in the way that he wanted over you. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious, willing to put in the work and learn. 
You’d spent the entire first month just learning each other’s limits, him learning yours and discovering his own. By the second month he was more confident, eager to try things he’d found, determined to start having fun after setting up the foundation of trust between the two of you. 
You had been enthusiastic from the start, never actually having someone exert this amount of dominance over you before. Sure, you’d had a few partners who were rough and liked to sometimes use you in the way you truly craved, but it had never been like this. You’d never gotten to explore the lifestyle this fully, with rules and requirements and clauses in place to protect yourself and your partner.  
By the third month you’d gotten into a very comfortable routine with user1102, knew what to expect from your sessions, and it was through that knowledge that you somehow became even more excited to meet with him.
But there was just so much you could do, so much he could do to keep things interesting, to fill the ache in your chest, to fill the ache in your core. Your fingers had quickly become not enough so you’d started to use toys, and after a while even that wasn’t enough. You wanted him, needed him, craved him, in the flesh, to do the things he’d been making you do to yourself.
There had been a particularly tough case few weeks back that had you aching and desperate. You’d made it back home worked up, almost as badly as the first time you’d met him, and all you could think about was needing to be fucked so hard you forgot your name. 
You were so close to biting the bullet, so close to asking him to meet face to face, so close to begging for him to come use you. But you knew you shouldn’t, knew that no matter how much you trusted him, you’d never seen his face, didn’t even know his name, and that could’ve been disastrous. 
You didn’t realize you’d started rubbing your thighs together until you accidentally tapped your clit against the rough hem of your underwear. Your mouth was watering, your chest was practically heaving, your eyes clouded in lust as you read through the list of kinks that he had so thoroughly provided. 
It was long, from calmer ones like spanking to the rougher ones he’d told you he fantasized about like collars and leashes. He was so perfect, your kinks lining up so perfectly that it almost felt like he’d been made just for you…or maybe you’d been made just for him, for each other. 
You knew he was watching you from across the aisle, knew he was making sure to catch every reaction, every thought, every time your breath hitched. He needed to see it all, needed to know that you were consenting enthusiastically every step of the way, because even an ounce of hesitation and he would put a stop to it immediately.
bouncingbunny1: Master?
You bit down on your lip as you watched him pick up his phone, his attention off you and back on you virtually exhilarating. 
user1102: Yes, bunny?
bouncingbunny1: May I please please please please pretty please touch myself?
He fought the urge to slam his laptop and cross the aisle towards you. Instead he took a steadying breath, daring to look at you, your puppy eyes and disarming pout barely visible in the low light of your phone screen. 
But the little that he saw was enough to make him lose it, to finally realize that it didn’t matter just how much he wanted to be in control of you, you would always be in control of him first. Whatever you wanted, he would give to you, and the thought didn’t scare him, instead it only made him want you more. 
user1102: Go to the bathroom and wait for me in there.
He watched as you locked your phone, plunging you in darkness once more before you slid out of your seat and made your way to the back of the plane. He waited impatiently for a few minutes, the anticipation of what he was about to do, to make you do, to see, finally in the flesh, made his heart beat rise like bile up his throat.
He finally stood, slowly yet surely walking across the plane, carefully making sure that no one had woken up, that no one knew what was happening. He didn’t need the looks, didn’t need wandering eyes to put two and two together, wanted to keep this just between the two of you, the privacy you deserved to figure whatever this was out the most important thing in his mind. 
He stood in front of the unlocked bathroom for a second, steadying himself, getting out of his head and allowing him to slip into the role he’d been dreaming of playing for so long. 
The bathroom was barely big enough for two people, but he squeezed in there regardless, his back pressed to the door tightly so that he didn’t touch you. You were just as overwhelmed as he was, your chest rising and falling deeply, your eyes glossed over with desire, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt. 
He smirked to himself, the knowledge that you had gone to the bathroom before you left the precinct and changed into a skirt because you knew some version of this exact thing would happen almost enough to make him want to deny you of the pleasure. 
He wanted to keep this professional, like it had been every time he called. One last time for old time’s sake, one last time before you were both responsible about this and discussed everything that he’d just sent you, one last time before you signed your names on a piece of paper that made you his officially. Only then would he allow himself to touch you, to worship you, to give you everything you wanted. 
“On the counter,” he told you, eager to put some space between the two of you. 
He watched you like a hawk, starving eyes following every twitch, every breath, every movement diligently. Your brain processed his words and you stepped forward, jumping on the vanity and waiting patiently for his next command. It had been like this for a while, this understanding of each other, of receiving and accepting.
He moved to face you, so close to you, to your open legs, to where he desperately craved to be. And still far enough that you were starting to get desperate, needy, whiny with each second that his hands weren’t on you.
“Bunch your skirt around your waist,” he continued, his strong hand coming up to rest over his growing erection. 
You did as he said, eyes never leaving his. Your hands shook over your sheer tights, almost eagerly hooking under them and pulling them down your legs. But you stopped yourself, returning your hand back to its place against the sink to hold you up. 
“Good girl,” he praised, his hand squeezing himself through his pants. That’s when you caught onto his game, caught onto what he was going to ask you to do since that was exactly what you had asked after all. “You can take them off now.”
You’ve never taken off your tights faster. There was always an issue, always something they got hooked on or an area where they stuck to your skin. But tonight they slid off your legs without so much as a beat too late. You tossed them to the side hurriedly and were met with an amused chuckle from the man in front of you. 
But as much as he was trying to appear calm and collected, his hand had tightened his movements, his grip on himself clearly eager as well. 
“Fuck,” you whispered, clearly enjoying the sight, the sight that he’d never allowed you to see, the sight that you’ve been fantasizing about for months. 
“Go ahead, make yourself cum, bunny,” he groaned, back pressing against the wall farther to hold himself up. 
Your cheeks immediately flushed crimson, embarrassment washing over you in burning hot waves. It was silly, you knew that. You’d done that and so much more for him, because of him for months. He’s probably seen you in as many positions, with as many toys, cumming in just as many ways — and yet this is what got you. 
Make yourself cum. Make yourself cum while your boss watched you, make yourself cum while user1102 touches himself, make yourself cum while Aaron held your stare in his and completely shattered whatever platonic friendship the two of you have built for the past year.
“Don’t get shy on me now, sweet girl,” he cooed, his hand stilling its movements as an incentive for you to start yours.
You took one final steadying breath before you plunged, damning every self conscious thought you had into the darkest pits of your brain.
Your left hand slid down your stomach, teasing, making him pay for what he’s doing to you, as you pulled your legs up on the vanity, knees bent towards your chest.
His eyes glimmered in the light of the bathroom, his mouth slowly hanging open in anticipation, practically salivating for you. 
You pressed your back against the mirror as your fingers hooked into your panties, pulling the completely soaked material to the side, exposing your slick folds to him. You watched him eagerly as he took in a sharp breath, his eyes darting between yours and your heat. 
He was quick to reward you, his own hands unbuckling his belt unbearably slow. Two could play at this game, but neither of you had the patience for it right now. Your right hand flew right to your pussy, fingers quickly tracing the length of your folds, gathering your wetness towards your clit. 
You moaned, just for him, just to remind him of what he should be doing as well, and he wasted no time sliding his zipper down and greedily pulling his cock out of his underwear. 
You forgot how to breathe for a second, your brain struggling to process what it was seeing. He was big, bigger than your fantasies had concocted, bigger than you ever though he could’ve been, bigger than you knew what to do with. He smirked at the attention, stepping forward to bring it back to his face. 
“Spit in my hand, bunny,” he extended his open palm to you and you could’ve sworn your head had exploded. 
It took you a second to decide what to do. Your right hand returned to your aching entrance, gathering as much of your arousal as you could before you slapped your slick covered fingers against his palm. 
He groaned loudly, so much so that it made your walls clench around nothing as even more leaked out of you. Before he could pull back, you brought his hand forward. You gathered as much saliva as you could in your mouth before leaning forward, eyes staring up at him filled with innocence, and you let the spit fall through your pursed lips onto his hand, mixing with the rest of your juices. 
“Oh bunny, you’re killing me,” he moaned, his now drenched hand wrapping around his cock swiftly. 
You smiled up at him, prideful, filthy, lustful, before your hand returned to its previous motions. You focused your energy on your clit now, slow and tight circles, matching the pace he subconsciously set. 
As much as Aaron had revered to watch you pleasure yourself through his screen, that had been nothing compared to the real deal, to having you displayed in front of him, to knowing that he could reach out and touch you if he wanted. 
“Finger yourself with your other hand,” he said through gritted teeth, the roughness of his hand around his sensitive tip almost pushing him over the edge. But he wasn’t done, he didn’t want to be, at least not yet.
You did as he wanted, making sure to open your legs wider so that he could watch as your fingers slid in and out of you. He moaned then, the sound practically vibrating in tandem with the airplane around you, making you almost feel him all around you.
He picked up his pace, strokes becoming more and more aggressive as he encouraged you to do the same. He was close, you could tell, and it swelled your chest with pride.
Usually you had to hear him closely, listen for those grunts that always let you know he was getting there. But seeing how his jaw tensed, how his breathing strained, how his hand squeezed harder around himself — you could not take it, your own tension building.
He knew that reaction well. He’d seen you wear it many times before. Your fingers were curling meticulously against your g-spot, your other ones picking up their pace over your clit while your thighs began to close together, seeking to relieve the tension. 
But what made it even sweeter was the way he could now see your desire plastered all over your face, like you were the easiest book he’d ever read.
You looked at him, pleading, a broken shell of the confident agent he’d gotten the chance to know, turned into the slut he knew you could be. He took another step forward, his erection unbelievably close to your entrance, one more step and his tip would be in you. 
You let out a gasp, your gaze frozen on the minuscule distance between your bodies. You wanted him to move forward, needed him to fill you up and relief the ache inside of you. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t and you knew it well.
Even then, in your desperation, you admired his determination to do things the right way. You both needed release, both craved it desperately, but he was not about to jeopardize your future relationship, one that needed to be built on of trust and communication and respect, for a quickie in the jet’s bathroom.
“Cum for me, bunny,” he told you, his voice gruff. You whimpered, allowing yourself to tune into the wave and ride it until it exploded within you. 
You moaned loudly, your fingers not letting up their movements as you rode out your orgasm. Your walls clenched around your fingers, a gush of wetness pouring out of you to coat them in your slick. 
His own strokes stilled for a moment, watching you come undone, savoring the fruits of his labor, waiting for you to come down from your high. It was only when your fingers slid out of you and you stilled your moments completely that he returned to his own. 
“Can I cum in your panties, sweet girl?” he asked, his words getting tangled up in the unholy sounds spilling out of him. 
You were hazy, your mind desperately trying to hold onto reality, onto your wits, onto the sound of his voice because you were terrified that if you didn’t, this would all disappear into thin air, back into the dream that you’d had for so long. 
“Yes,” you managed, your shaky hand lifting up the front of your panties so that he could spill his seed over you. 
His movements became erratic then, strokes became tugs, and just as quickly as it had began, it ended. He fully stepped into your personal space, his other hand wrapping around your thigh to keep you in place as he emptied himself into the wet cotton of your panties. 
Your slick mixed with his spend, hot and heavy on your skin, clearly meant to mark you as his. He moaned into your ear, low, unhinged, euphoric, and you couldn’t help but whimper in return. 
You were so far gone, so little and malleable, so much so that you knew that whatever he asked you to do then, you’d do it without question. Your head fell on the crook of his neck, labored breaths filling the room as he gently unhooked your fingers from your underwear to place it back to cover you. 
He couldn’t stop looking at the white substance seeping through your panties, the squishy and lewdly wetness against your skin making him excited to fill your pussy up until you were leaking him everywhere. 
You stayed like that for a few minutes. He knew he couldn’t keep you like that, couldn’t ask you to walk back out there and act as though nothing had happened, couldn’t risk you getting a rash because of his own ego. 
At some point he tucked himself back into his boxers, getting himself back to the pristine put together image that he always was. He waited until you’d calmed down a little more before he cupped your face with his hands, pulling you to look at him again. 
“Bunny, I’m going to get you all cleaned up, alright?” 
You nodded, eyes sleepily blinking shut longer and longer. He set you back against the mirror, grabbing one of the towels and wetting it before he gently ran it over your hands and the inside of your thighs. 
He set the towel to the side before he hooked his index fingers in your panties, pulling them down your legs before tossing them into the sink. He cleaned your pussy gently, making sure to get every last bit of the two of you off your delicate skin. 
Once he was done, he patted you dry with another towel, reaching over to where your tights had landed to pick them up. He got on his knees, a sight that had you perking up just enough to catch him staring up at you with so much adoration you honestly didn’t know what to do with it. 
It took everything in you not to melt right into his tough, to stay awake enough even though his warm finger riding up your legs was enough to lull you to sleep. It was only when he needed to hoist your tights over your ass that he picked you up, placing you back down on your shaky legs.
“Can you do me one last favor, sweet girl?” he whispered and you did your best to nod. “Can you pee for me? I don’t want you getting a UTI.”
You sighed deeply, being diligent not something you were looking forward to in that moment. But you nodded again, and he rewarded you with a soft kiss to your temple before he stepped outside of the bathroom to give you some privacy.
Once you were done, he walked you back to his seat on the plane, not caring if anyone saw because he knew that even if they did, they wouldn’t say anything at all. He made sure you were comfortable, wrapped in a blanket, buckled into the seat for safety, before he made his way back to the bathroom. 
He cleaned everything up, going through his own routine before he washed his hands, pocketed your still damp panties, and made sure nothing looked out of place. He then grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before making his way back to you.
He sat beside you, his hand softly grazing your cheek to wake you up long enough to press the bottle on your lips, silently urging you to drink. 
You did without question, almost as if you’d done this all your life, the motion nothing more than routine, easy, normal. 
“Master?” you whispered sweetly after he deemed you’d drank enough. 
“Yes, bunny?”
“Can I have a kiss please?”
“Of course, sweet girl,” his nose tickled your own before his lips landed on yours, gentle, kind, perfect. You hummed against him, eyes closing for the final time before sleep overtook you. 
He smiled proudly, his heart so full, so content, so excited for what the future had in store for the first time in a very long time. He watched you sleep the rest of the flight, watched you curl further into him, watched you reciprocate all of the feelings that had been plaguing him since the night before.
You wanted him just as much as he wanted you, and that was all he needed to lay the self-sabotage to bed, to allow himself to drift off to sleep, even if it was just for a few minutes so that he could fully take you in, because all he really needed was you curled into his side like you belonged there all along.
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fucking hell i am oN MY KNEES for this man. honestly what a fucking jOY it is to write them.
send me more requests for bunny and clyde!! i don't really have a series planned for them so i'm down to just write requested scenarios and play around with where their story goes.
tags: @canuck-eh, @ssamorganhotchner, @xladyxdreamer, @gr3enflowers, @lilyviolets, @howabouticallyou, @shadowmemory, @simp4f1, @honeylovemoon, @powelvr25
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steviesbicrisis · 1 year ago
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Dustin had been waiting this moment for months.
Mind you, Dustin isn’t one to bring up his personal life to the public at any chance he gets, but a part of him really wants everyone to know his role in one of the most important up-coming weddings of the year.
“So, I’ve heard you had a big role in all of this, what happened?” The host asks, on the edge of his seat.
“Well, I know Eddie cause we’ve done some livestreams together, we’ve met a couple of times and he seemed cool. And I know Steve cause, other than working together, he’s basically a brother to me, you know-” the audience interrupts him with a big ‘aaaaw’ sound and loud clapping.
“I think you misunderstood me, he’s the type of older brother who is no fun and makes you wish either of you was adopted.”
The audience laughs.
“Anyways, we were all at a party and I introduced them and Eddie was, you know, immediately obsessed with Steve. But Steve was engaged at the time,” Dustin decides to not dwell on this part of the story, it was a very tough time for Steve and some of it was public enough to make it worse. Dustin is just happy that he can talk about Steve’s ex-fiancé in the past tense.
“Time goes on, and as soon as the news of Steve being single again hits the public, I get a call from one begging Eddie Munson-” he wasn’t really begging but Dustin wants to sell the story “-asking about Steve once again. Like, how was he? Was he fine? Ready to meet other people? and I was like 'I don't know dude, I don't ask him about his dating prospects daily' and that's when he asked for Steve's number."
Dustin takes a small pause before going into the next part of the story "Obviously I don't go around giving people Steve's number, and I get asked a lot," the audience laughs again, "so I do the decent thing and ask Steve can I give Eddie your number? is it okay?
And Steve goes all into this theatrical performance Oi, no, mamma mia," Dustin goes strong with the Italian accent "All these men, che palle, they never leave me alone. Oddio-”
The host interrupts him “wait, does Steve have this strong Italian accent?”
“Of course not, he was born in Indiana, I’m trying to sell the story man!” Dustin pretends to be annoyed and the host goes along with it, making the audience laugh and cheer.
“Anyways, he was trying to say no but clearly meant yes. So I gave Eddie the number and whatever Eddie did with it, must’ve been the right call.”
A photo of Steve’s engagement announcement appears behind them right after: Steve and Eddie’s hands, finger intertwined and matching rings.
“Clearly he did” the host agrees after the clapping and cheering from the audience dies down.
“And what about wedding gifts? Are you doing something with the whole group? Or is it a solo thing?” The host inquires.
“Uh, I gave Steve a husband?? He should be giving me gifts”.
———
Predictably, the interview goes viral.
A few days later, Dustin comes back home to find a gift waiting for him.
It’s two VIP tickets for one of Eddie’s shows under his and Suzie’s name (a YouTuber friend Dustin didn’t have the courage to ask out, yet).
The note attached to the box is simple and very clear.
“Thank you, little shit. Now that we are even, the wedding gift is expected or you’ll be grounded.
See you at the wedding
S&E”
Despite being a twenty something, successful and independent since he was 17, Dustin takes the threat very seriously.
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welcometothejianghu · 1 year ago
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Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 琅琊榜/Nirvana in Fire.
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Nirvana in Fire is a 2015 historical series best described as either a complicated succession drama set in the premodern Chinese imperial palace, or the story of a man who didn't die a decade ago and has decided to make it everyone else's problem.
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And really, I almost feel silly giving my glib little summary, because Nirvana in Fire is so well-known of a property. It's a classic for a reason, and that reason is that it's legitimately very good. This show is what happens when you adapt a solid story, get a bunch of very talented actors, and throw a huge amount of money at it. It's incredibly popular and highly acclaimed, and it earned all of the hype.
Still, while I bet there are few people adjacent to c-drama stuff who've never heard of Nirvana in Fire, I'm sure there are plenty who haven't watched it. After all, it looks like one of those slow, serious shows with a lot of ponderous talking and no joy. If that's the impression you've been given, I could imagine looking at the 54-episode commitment and saying, I don't need that in my life.
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I am here to tell you you're wrong. It is a banger of a show. It's tense. It's funny. It's heartbreaking. It’s exceptionally clever. It’s jaw-droppingly stupid. It’s romantic. It’s tragic. It has smart plots and bizarre subplots. And that's not even touching the thing with the yeti.
So in case you're one of those people who's heard of Nirvana in Fire, but has put off watching it for one reason or another, I'm here with five reasons I think you should try it.
1. Epic Shit
Did you like the Lord of the Rings? More specifically, did you really like the second Peter Jackson film? Great, then you're all set for this.
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I guess I could have called this Game of Thrones without the dragons, but that's not actually the vibe at all. Game of Thrones is much more sensational and salacious, with all the blood and butts and what-not. The Tolkien comparison is more apt, I think, because Nirvana in Fire is equally about as wholesome as you can get in a property where dudes are still getting stabbed all the time.
This is a show about vengeance. And yeah, justice for the fallen, sure, that's fine too. But mostly it's about a bunch of good people joining forces to make sure the bastards who did wrong pay, with their lives as necesary.
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The problem, though, is that these bastards are incredibly powerful, which means that a pure brute-force approach isn't going to work. Accordingly, this quickly becomes a story about the power of smart teamwork to exact retribution on some people who can (and did!) legally get away with murder -- and our heroes are some of the people with their necks most on the line if anything goes wrong.
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Don't let the Middle Earth comparison fool you into thinking this is all epic swordfights. It's not. (I mean, for one thing, as well-funded as this project is, it doesn't have Peter Jackson Money.) The vast majority of the tension in the show comes from dialogue and slow, terrible realizations. The fight scenes are almost a relief from the nail-biting intensity of intimate conversations about getting a letter from somebody's ex-wife or returning a book.
All told, the show has that incredible almost-RPG vibe of going through all the little subquests and cutscenes you find along the way to defeat the final boss. The plot carefully unravels a multi-tendriled mystery told to you by people in incredible costumes. It doesn't get much more epic than that.
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(Nirvana in Fire is also a cautionary tale about how you should be very careful with who gets invited to your birthday party.)
2. A chronically ill protagonist
Okay, right in the first episode, it is established that the main character has three whole completely different names and an old nickname. I'm going to call him Mei Changsu for the duration of this rec post, but let the record show that I could just have easily gone with one of the other three.
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What you learn in that same first episode is that Mei Changsu used to be a palace insider, the cocky son of a noble family, only now nearly everyone he used to know thinks he's dead. Also, he's not far off from being actually dead -- he has an unspecified terminal condition that's mostly managed, provided he stays in his little mountain hideaway with his handsome doctor bestie and doesn't return to his old stomping ground and start kicking over hornets' nests.
So guess what he's about to do.
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I have to make a note of how brilliant the casting is here: Hu Ge is an action actor! He is a kickpuncher of a man! And I think it's great that you can sort of see his frustration, as well as Mei Changsu's, at having to spend the whole series wrapped in countless layers of fabric and/or lying in bed while everyone around him gets to be the badass action heroes.
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Mei Changsu's not faking it, either -- he's actually dying. He expends his energy where he thinks it's necessary, and sometimes that means he has to spend the following week in bed. He's constantly frustrated with himself for what he can't do anymore. He's racing a clock, and that clock is his own failing body. If he dies, the only hope anyone here has for justice dies with him.
He gets two love interests that the show treats pretty much equally. One's a lady general who wasn't even a love interest in the book. The other's the handsome prince who was initially going to be his textual romantic partner in same book, until the author hopped genres from danmei to general historical drama. I can't even call this a love triangle, because there's no competition. He just gets a wife and a husband -- in that he gets neither, because circumstances and his own illness keep him distant from them. He lies to both of then about his condition (among other things). He wants to be with them both and knows he can't be with either. And they in turn have to learn to accept what of him they can and can't have.
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(Also, Nihuang (her) and Jingyan (him) are both incredibly gorgeous, which is exactly what bisexual genius Mei Changsu deserves.)
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Obviously this isn't a perfect representation of life with chronic illness, largely because Mei Changsu is an incredily wealthy man who lives in a universe with what's basically magic medicine. However, I've seen the story's treatment of him and his condition resonate with a lot of chronically ill viewers, so even with the fantasy layer on it, there's definitely something there.
3. Dave
I have already told the story of how Meng Zhi became "Dave," but long story short, he's such a Dave that I legitimately forget his character's real name. He embodies Daveness. He's The Ultimate Dave.
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Dave is an excellent fighter, a loyal friend -- and a terrible liar. He's possbly the only straightforward character in the entire show. When he's asked to be duplicitous, he's comically bad at it. Dave will never do a heel turn. I was misled at first by his semi-evil facial hair, but I have seen the error of my ways. Dave is pure lawful good.
And the reason I list Dave as such a selling point is that having a Dave means you always know what's going on. This is because Dave never knows what's going on, and he has no ego about that, so he asks questions, and other characters have to explain to him what just happened, and that is how you figure out what's going on.
It's an incredibly smart move on the drama's part, because some of the (very fun) schemes are so complicated that there's no way for you, the viewer, to understand them just by watching. Without the internal monologues and omniscent narration of a book, the machinations are opaque. You need things explained -- but why would the schemers explain their schemes? Well, Dave needs some exposition, so here you go.
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So if you're worried that you might be left feeling stupid by a show where so many sneaky people are hatching so many complex plans, worry not! Like the good man he is, Dave has your back.
4. A Million Amazing Antagonists
If you like bad guys, this is a show for you. This show has brilliant bad guys all the way down. It has bad guys at every turn. It has bad guys for every taste. Welcome to Big Liang's Big Bad Guy Emporium, where we guarantee you'll walk out of here with a bad guy you like, or your money back!
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(And yes, this set of pictures is also to say that their costume budget was entirely well-spent.)
Without getting too far into spoilers, I will say that the basic situation underlying the whole series is this: The emperor has done a lot of bad things, and he has enlisted a bunch of people's help in hiding those bad things, so much so that many of those other people have done even more bad things the emperor didn't even know about -- and then everyone has gone to great lengths to cover those up as well. Our protagonists spend the whole series unraveling this colossal shitshow and bringing people to task for their crimes.
So really, if you're going to spend 54 episodes taking down the baddies, they've got to be baddies you love to see taken down. And these are -- in part because all of them have crystal-clear, rock-solid motivations for their actions. Nobody here is a moustache-twirling comic-book-villain baddie. They're all bad for reasons that are very understandable in their individual contexts. And not a single one of them is going to go down without a fight.
5. World's Best Mom
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(Sidebar: The fact that four out of five of my reasons to watch the show are individual or groups of characters should be your strongest indicator that this is an intensely character-driven story.)
This is not a Dead Mom Show. Okay, some moms are dead, but mostly this is a Moms Are Alive And Often Cause Problems Show, which is a lot of what makes the palace drama so delicious. But there is one Good Mom who stands out above all the rest: Consort Jing.
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Played with perfect grace and devastating politeness by the stunning Liu Mintao, Consort Jing is a skilled doctor and excellent baker who starts the show with a low-level status among the women of the palace. She swallows down all kinds of mistreatment because she's not in a place to oppose it -- and when she can retaliate, it must only be through soft power. She loves her jock son with all her heart, but because of both their relatively poor positions in the hierarchy, she doesn't get to see him all that much. She wants to be an asset to him, while all the time she has to fear becoming a liability.
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She is also the smartest person in any room that she's in, unless she's in a room with Mei Changsu, and even then it may be a tie.
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There are lots of great characters in the show that I could have highlighted here, and plenty of them are women, but Consort Jing in particular never ceases to impress me. She is trapped in a gilded cage, married to a man who [lengthy list of spoilers that are traumatic to her in particular], and held hostage by how every time she even looks like she's out of line, it puts both her and her boy in danger. She's the most vulnerable of any of our good guys. Kind of like Wang Zhi, she's got to be clever or she's dead.
Consort Jing is not part of Mei Changsu's original plan. She figures out his plan and makes herself part of it -- and entirely remotely, as she and he aren't even in the same room until episode 40 or so. She puts herself in great danger to make sure he succeeds, not because it will necessarily do her any good, but because Jingyan needs him. This woman has been captain of the Mei Changsu/Jingyan ship for like twenty years already.
Oh, and did I mention her outfits?
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I love you, Consort Mom.
Are you ready to watch it yet?
Get it on Viki! Get it on YouTube! Get it on YouTube but in a different playlist! (And also maybe get it on Amazon? Not in my region, but maybe in yours.)
I will warn you that it does take off running -- I think I saw someone say it introduces nineteen characters in the first episode? I was worried that I'd be too innundated by situations and flashbacks and names to be able to follow. By the second or third episode, though, I was rolling with it. So if you feel like you're struggling at the beginning, stick with it a bit. See if you don't feel it start to click.
...Man, reading over this post has left me going, oh, but I missed that! and that! and that guy! And yeah, the truth is that there are just so many great things about the show that limiting myself to only five (and being limited to only thirty images) was tough. I'm sure that people reblogging will add their own must-see elements.
Truly, this is a show that deserves its reputation. It may not be for everyone, but if this is the kind of thing that you like, it is a shining example of that thing.
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Besides, you have to love a production where everyone was clearly having just a whole lot of fun being big ol' costumed dorks.
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babydray777 · 9 months ago
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It’s always colder in Slytherin
Draco Malfoy x fem!slyth reader
WC: I don’t know man it’s not that long just read it
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1am was feeling like an agony.
I once proclaimed that Slytherin Common room was way colder than the other ones and my classmates declared that it was nonsense, that the whole castle may have been somehow enchanted to be a warm place for people to stay, that it would be unfair if anyone were to deal with cold because they were sorted in an specific house.
It may be that I’m way more prominent to feel cold (which I’m not) or that my classmates are too proud to recognize that our house may have at least one drawback in comparison to the rest, but I’m pretty sure that winter nights in Gryffindor common room are way warmer than here.
It may be because we are in the dungeons, or because we are under the lake. In any case, I don’t think there is any magical architecture protecting us from unfairness. So tonight is snowing outside, and I feel cold as shit.
Even though, cold was not being my primal issue. I would not have laved anything like an agony over something as simple as that. My main problem was the fact that I was not being able to sleep even after two hours of trying.
I already thought about my day, I already thought about my classes, I even imagined fake scenarios between some teachers just to have fun in my own head for a while to see if I was able to get tired. I thought about people in my school, I thought about my friends and how the girl group of them were so pleasantly sleeping by my sides. I thought about everyone, or at least everyone, cause there was certainly a person I did not feel the urge to think about.
It’s been a few rough months, mentally rough I mean. I have always been pretty close to the boys in my house, Zabini was cool and a good gossip partner, Theodore was funny when he was not trying to win my heart over those jokes, Crabbe and Goyle were… Well, those are definitely not my favorite, but I managed to ignore their braindead comments and sounding ways to chew.
But there was also Draco Malfoy, and oh if I have been ignoring thinking about Draco Malfoy.
The thing is, we are certainly… tense.
We have always been friends, I would even dare to say that he has always been the closest one of them for me. Grew up together as our parents are pretty much close and became thick as thieves while growing up.
In our first years at Hogwarts our friendship became a little less personal as we were now surrounded by not only new friends but many other people in general. Draco became a little bit annoying towards me, or a little bit annoying in general. He was restless and sarcastic, not to mention mean sometimes, although there were few the times in which he had really crossed a line and we always ended up talking it through, so I just ended up assuming that my best friend was just a little bit of an asshole sometimes, I ignored him whenever he was not in the mood and ended the conversation there. He was still my best friend and I was not the one to fix anyone’s behavior, I was not his mother.
Well, it would have end well if that were the end of the story, problem is that our friendship took kind of a turn a few months ago when something happened. I do not want to get pretty specific so I just prefer to say that a few drinks, a joint and a pretty blonde rich boy could make anyone feel dizzy about certain feelings or attractions on a summer night.
So, for the time going, we just stood in a place of being completely awkward towards each other sometimes, or extremely close some other times.
Reality is that I always feel push towards him, like a force begin me to go and hug him, to hold his hand while he’s walking by my side, to touch his face or lay my head on his shoulder. I could never deny (and believe me I tried) my attraction towards Draco Malfoy.
But that’s also the most uncomfortable thing that has happened to me.
Draco is not the kind of person you look up to date, not if you have known him your whole life and you could end up losing your closest friend over a predictable break up. He was a brat, pretty much selfish and I would dare to say a little but mean, plus, things were already tense enough.
But like I said before: 1am was feeling like an agony. And Slytherin common room was colder than the rest of them.
“Oh fuck it” I muttered and took away my blankets.
Walking at night in my nightgown was not the best idea ever, I felt like I was about to freeze but there would only be a few steps, I only had to cross the common room and then ahead to the other side of it.
I walked bare feet through it, saw that the chimney had a temptative fire and ignored it, just to keep walking towards my destination.
Once I reached the door, I knocked as hard as I could trying not to make much sound.
“Come on… Come on, I’m freezing”
I knocked again, this time a little bit harder. And it worked, cause suddenly a pale, angry face was looking at me just by the other side of the door.
As soon as he took recognition that it was me, his face relaxed and turned into a confused expression, he still looked a little bit annoyed, but not in a way that would made me feel like he’s about to snap some stupid comment.
“Y/N?” He asked. “What you doing here? Aren’t you cold?”
“Can I sleep with you?” I snapped at once. His prefect room completely empty at his back looking as tempting as hot chocolate. He looked at me for a second and I suddenly realized that it may have been a better idea in my mind than it was in reality. “I mean… It’s actually pretty cold and I don’t know, you are comfortable to cuddle at night, for some weird reason. No other intention included… and you see our common room is actually colder than the rest because…”
“Of course you can sleep with me” He interrupted at once. As I looked up again he was smiling. God, if he was not the prettiest boy this castle has ever seen.
I smiled back and he opened the door for me.
“Come on, hurry, I’m freezing”
As I entered the room he was already heading to get under the blankets, I followed him in a rush and lay beside him.
As I got under the blankets myself, he was quick to cuddle me, passing his arm from over my waist and getting close to me.
“God you are so cold” He mentioned while staring to pass his hand up and down my arm to give me some warm.
“Did I wake you?” I asked, now that I thought about it.
“What do you think?”
“Sorry” I muttered. He passed his other arm under my neck and hugged me completely.
I lay there in silence, feeling like I had the best idea of my life cause now my eyelids were finally feeling a little heavier and I was for once relaxed.
I was about to fall completely to my dreams when Draco suddenly said “Our common room is not colder than the rest, it would make no sense”
I sighed “It would actually make too much sense” I started “You see, we are in the dungeons so…”
“Y/N” He cut me. “Just go to sleep” I was not facing him, but I could have bet my life that he was at least smiling a little.
“You just woke me”
Draco kissed my shoulder from behind. The action took me completely by surprise and my heart made a little jump at the touch of his lips on my skin.
“You deserved it”
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loverboysturn · 19 days ago
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. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ starcrossed!reader and starcrossed!chris discover the unspoken truth
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ read part one here
chris entered the large room with nick and matt trailing behind, the party’s energy hitting him instantly, the bass of the music thumping, drinks sloshing in plastic cups and a crowd of unfamiliar faces in flashy, over the top costumes.
he knew he didn’t belong here, him and his brothers weren’t supposed to be on this side of town, his dad would kill the three of them if he knew where they were right now, but that was half the fun, the devil horns currently sat on his head feeling oddly fitting.
buzz.
he pulled his phone from his back pocket.
another buzz
23:53 new message from nate i’m in the back. you’re not gonna fuckin believe it.
23:53 new message from nate be careful bro
chris frowned, tapping out a quick reply: who kid? what are you talking about?
before he could hit send, nick was already pulling him into the crowd. “stop just standing there, let’s go find the drinks cabinet and drink these rich kids out of house and home”
chris half sniggered to his brother, his mind still fixated on the text from his best friend.
he shoved his phone back into his pocket, trying to shake off the feeling of unease, but nick’s patience for wanting to get drunk was wearing thin. “you coming, or what?”
they walked deeper into the house, this place was enormous — spacious rooms with dark wood flooring and crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, whoever owned this house had to be incredibly wealthy.
and that’s when chris’s eyes land on you again.
you were across the room from him, standing in the crowded open-plan kitchen, talking to a group of people, the same girl from when he first saw you earlier by your side, your angel wings stood out in the soft kitchen lights.
his heart skipped a beat when he saw you, he shouldn’t be feeling this way, he’d never felt this way about anyone before, he had only just met you but there was a connection so strong between you that was undeniable, something that was pulling him towards you, making everything else fade into the background.
his phone buzzed again, dragging him back to reality.
23:54 new message from nate she’s one of them
chris’s stomach dropped as he read the text. one of them?
he glanced over at you again, there was no way, you couldn’t be.
the party, the music, his brothers — everything felt distant now, his eyes locked on yours from across the room, and in that moment it felt like you were the only person there.
nate then appears by his side, grinning ear to ear like this was the most amusing thing to happen to him all year.
“you see her?” nate asked casually, motioning towards you. a smirk creeping on his face "the one you've been eyeing up all night, yeah?
chris forced his gaze away from you and tries to focus on the information his best friend was telling him, “yeah, i see her”
nate didn’t miss the tense tone in chris’s voice, “you sure you know who she is?” to which chris shrugged, trying to play it off as casual but inside, the tightness in his chest was suggesting otherwise.
“she’s just some girl, kid. where’s this fuckin’ conversation going?”
nate’s smirk widens, the excitement of sharing this big news fueling his grin. “oh, she’s definitely some girl, man. this side of town? it’s basically her family’s fuckin’ kingdom. they’ve got their hands in everything, running all the shit and now the four of us? we’ve just crashed a halloween party… at her house.”
the people his father had always warned him about, the ones who ran everything on the other side of town — the side he was currently on, he knew the whole family by reputation, endless stories of the rivalry and conflict told to him and his brothers by his father, their faces burned into his memory except yours, he had never seen you before, he had heard about a daughter but he never imagined it to be you.
“no fucking way” chris muttered under his breath, “her? this is her house?”
nate nods, “yes, this is her house” he repeats, "and you won't believe who her brother is"
the pull towards you now felt different, the rivalry, the history, years of a deep divide between the two families all coming rushing back.
suddenly, nick and matt reappear at his side, both wearing a more serious look on their faces.
“chris, we need to get outta here like fuckin’ yesterday” nick says, his voice nervous, “i heard someone mention that ‘some kids from the other side’ are here”
matt speaks up, glancing nervously around them. “this shit is gonna go south if we don’t leave now, her brother is the one hosting this party"
before chris could process anything anyone was telling him, he spotted you again, this time with someone else beside you, a tall, unmistakably familiar face — your brother. the same guy he’d tangled with more times than he could count, each fight adding fuel to the fire of the rivalry and deepening their hatred for each other, the tension between them this time was instant, like picking up where they’d left off, but this time it was in your world where chris and his friends were outnumbered.
nick and matt exchange a quick look, the tension rising in the air.
“shit” chris muttered, “fuck, okay we need to go, now”
the four of them quickly manouver through the crowd, but as chris stole one last glance at you, your heart skipped. you caught his gaze and the understanding between you was instant, but before he could say anything to you, your brother was headed his way.
his heart was pounding as he ran towards the front door, the boys following closely behind but he still couldn’t shake the thought of you.
in that moment, it was like the world paused, and chris knew that somehow — you were the one he was never supposed to meet.
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note: it’s starting to get angsty now ooo! proof read this so many times that i am now stressssed about it. let me know your thoughts :)
my asks are always open for starcrossed!chris & starcrossed!reader. come talk to me about them!
the whole starcrossed!chris & starcrossed!reader universe can be found here.
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helvegen-s · 9 months ago
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Rage, rage | seven
index
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Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC
Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.
Warnings: I think none, just some bantering and fluff towards the end
A/N: here is where the good shit starts...
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Nimue had started spending more time outdoors. She sat on the balconies of the house, in the garden, in the outdoor patio, and she enjoyed the fresh air. She loved feeling the wind on her skin, in her hair, the chill as the sun set.
However, there was a shadow looming over her.
She was enjoying her new life, her new freedom, but she knew that at some point all of that would have to change, that she would have to return to reality.
She was sitting in the garden, in a chair, with her eyes closed and letting herself be carried away by the sensation of the sun on her skin when suddenly she felt it.
She felt something in her mind open up, and her vision was blinded from inside her skull. When she opened her eyes, she didn't see the trees and rose bushes in the garden, she only saw white.
She didn't panic, as that light was the same one that surrounded her when she was inside the Cauldron. It was him, trying to tell her something, to teach her something.
So she clung to the chair's armrests to stay anchored to the earthly plane and let herself be carried wherever the Cauldron was dragging her.
She saw herself in the middle of a path. In front of her, green meadows and lush forests. There was something there that made the greens of the leaves seem livelier, that made the blue sky shine brighter.
When she turned around, trying to take in all her surroundings, she found a beautiful mansion behind her, where the path she was on ended. The house was neglected, but still, its charm made Nimue feel drawn towards its interior.
She supposed it must be the Spring Court, as it matched the brief descriptions Feyre had given her when telling her story.
And then she saw it.
Under the huge entrance gate, she saw them, all of them.
She saw Jurian, she saw Dagdan and Brannagh, her hateful cousins. There in the midst of all that splendor and springtime radiance, the human and the two twins exuded a poisonous and black aura that tainted the air around them.
She wondered if that's how Azriel and the others saw her, and she felt a pang of disgust towards herself in her chest.
Azriel, standing in the middle of the kitchen with a cup in his hand, felt the same pang in his own chest.
He immediately became alert and pulled and pulled on that invisible thread. He felt Nimue's presence on the other side, but there was something strange. As if she also wasn't there.
He set the cup aside, not caring if it fell to the floor or not, and hurried out of the kitchen. He first looked in the library, where he knew she spent most of her time.
He knew, clearly, because it was his duty to watch over her and make sure she didn't have any hidden intentions.
Just because of that, nothing more.
When he decided to peek into the garden, there she was.
The princess, taking one last look to identify Tamlin and Lucien, let herself be dragged back to Velaris, to her new home.
She came to her senses, and in front of her was Azriel.
"Hello."
Azriel didn't say anything. He just looked at her, in silence, watching as the girl got up from the chair and walked towards him under the sunlight.
There, in the light, she seemed to shine with her own light.
He took a couple of deep breaths and tensed his body completely. Involuntarily, his wings spread behind him, and he could see his own shadow projected on the ground.
Alright, perfect. We have to impress her.
He wanted to smack himself.
After what had happened the other day at the training ground, after letting himself go so unconsciously, Azriel's shadows had completely betrayed him. They spent the hours of the day chasing Nimue around the house, whispering in his ear everything the princess did or didn't do, telling him that she wore a very pretty dress, or that she had perfumed herself with a small bottle of cologne that Feyre had given her.
He had been avoiding her for days, now more than ever, after the ridiculousness he had made in front of Cassian.
Oh, Cassian. He had made sure everyone in the house knew, and he had also made sure to embarrass Azriel on the subject.
And now, after days, their encounter couldn't happen any other way, with his body disobeying him again, his wings spreading like a bird's, his body tensing every muscle to pretend.
He looked like a foolish teenager trying to impress the girl he liked.
Nimue gave him a warm smile, so warm that Azriel could swear his heart was melting in the middle of his chest.
"I haven't seen you in many days."
Nimue knew he had been avoiding her. Nimue knew Azriel's shadows followed her around the house. She also knew that something had changed within the male, because she felt it through the bond. She felt a small burning spark, amidst all that anger and rage boiling inside him.
"I've been busy. I have a job, even if it doesn't seem like it."
Azriel reconsidered the option of smacking himself.
Why was he like this with her? Why couldn't he manage to give her a kind word, a good look, a nice smile? Just like everyone else in his family did.
However, Nimue's own smile didn't falter.
"I know," she simply said. She continued to look at him a little longer, with all that curiosity in her face that only made Azriel soften even more.
And so they stood, in silence, facing each other for a while longer without really knowing what to say. Simply internalizing each other's presence. Until Nimue remembered the pressing matter.
"Oh, I have to talk to Rhysand. Things are moving fast in Spring.”
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"Wonderful. So now it's not just Tamlin, as if that wasn't enough, the damn Jurian is with him in Spring too. And you're telling me you have two sadistic and psychopathic cousins there as well?"
Rhysand immediately wanted to tear his hair out. Everything was slipping out of their hands. They had found a quick and discreet solution to all of this, to prevent a greater evil, and things had gone awry. He was grateful for the help Nimue had unconditionally provided, but welcoming the princess into their home had only put a target on their backs for the King of Hybern.
"I can help, Rhysand. Let me go there, and I'll take care of slowing down all their plans."
The High Lord hesitated. He could feel Feyre's gaze on him, the expectation she placed on his decision.
"Nimue..." Rhysand didn't know how to say it tactfully.
He glanced around the room, where everyone had gathered to hear what the princess had to say. He observed Azriel carefully, who stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking as though he might bore a hole in the floor with his restlessness.
Azriel didn't want to let her go to Spring. It was suspicious, too risky. The perfect opportunity for her to betray their trust, to join forces with her cousins and the traitor Tamlin and end everything in Prythian, just as her father wanted her to do.
He wanted to trust her, but her eagerness to convince them to let her go, to let her go with the enemy...
"No," said Azriel. He stepped forward, imposing himself in the atmosphere of that meeting, and everyone looked at him. "We can't let her go, it's risky and dangerous. We still don't know what her intentions are or what will happen if her family convinces her to return.
"Don't talk about me as if I'm not here in front of you." With her sharp teeth fully visible, ears laid back and pinned to her skull, Nimue looked like a stray cat about to attack. The embodiment of rage. "I've been in this house for almost a month, living with you all and earning your trust. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it in Hybern to save myself all this time, I wouldn't need to convince you of anything if my goal was to win the war for my father. I would simply kill you, and there would be no war to win."
Everyone remained silent and surprised at the princess's sudden outburst of fury. The sweet and innocent girl they had come to know over the past month had disappeared, and in her place, a furious beast stared at each of them one by one.
"I made it clear from the beginning. You need me. Let me fit into your plans and help you, or I'll burn everything down regardless of what stands in the way: High Lords or kings of Hybern."
Rhysand immediately became alert, ready for anything, as did the entire Inner Circle.
"Calm down."
"I'll calm down when you understand that I'm not a helpless child, nor a mere spy. I'll calm down when you understand that I'm a weapon made for war and that I have no reason to wish you harm," Nimue breathed. She did her best to dissipate her anger, to let it flow and evaporate through every pore. "Unlike the father who imprisoned me for twenty years and intends to ravage the entire world, I wish no harm upon you."
Azriel, with his hand on the hilt of his dagger, felt the heavy atmosphere of the room dissipate slowly, as Nimue glanced at each of them one by one, pleading for a vote of confidence. He felt the sorrow of the female in his own chest, raw through the bond.
Sorrow, because even though Nimue believed she was finding her place, she felt so hard to love, so hard to accept. They saw her as a monster and a threat wherever she went, and there were times when, despite her efforts to fight against that stigma, she only reinforced it. Like at that moment, when faced with the rejection of these people, she had reverted to her old self, the one who bared her teeth and threatened others.
In a final desperate attempt, she turned to Azriel, "Please, I beg you. Give me this chance and take action against my father and his madness."
Azriel looked at her, holding his breath and fighting against the instinct to fall to his knees and give the pleading female whatever she wanted. It was so difficult for him to fight against his instincts that he had to close his eyes and then look at the ceiling, avoiding Nimue's eyes, who knew what she was doing with all the rationality Azriel could have.
Rhysand broke the silence with a long sigh.
"Okay," sighed the High Lord. There was a moment of silence in which Azriel supposed he would be speaking mind to mind with Feyre. "The only condition is that Azriel goes with you and ensures that everything goes well."
"Okay. When do we leave?"
Azriel gazed enraptured at his lifelong brother, his High Lord.
"Pardon?”
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She was sitting in one of the armchairs in her room, her gaze fixed on the stars shining in the sky. She counted them, searching for the constellations that Amren had taught her in those books, memorizing their names. She felt nerves on edge, anticipation for the next day, for her parting to the Spring Court boiling deep within her.
Finally, she felt useful. Finally, her twenty years of waiting were leading her somewhere. Although she found herself on the opposite side of the fight than she had imagined, she felt that was where she belonged.
In her reverie, she felt a tug in the middle of her chest. The door to her room opened on its own, as if a gust of wind had pushed it, as if the house itself were urging her to go. Nimue shivered and decided to follow that pull, that sensation she received with open arms even if she didn't want to, even if she tried to resist it.
Azriel.
She followed the bond through the corridors, blindly, opening doors and ascending to the attic of the house. There, she climbed out of one of the windows and onto the roof of the house.
In the darkness of the night, illuminated by the half moon, Azriel was sitting on the black tiles, his face tilted towards the sky and his eyes closed.
Nimue didn't utter a word, didn't move a muscle, by the Mother, she didn't even breathe. She stayed still, observing every angle of that male's face, how the pale light of the moon illuminated his dark skin, how his raven hair shone like the purest of onyx. She remained silent, afraid he would notice her presence and chase her away barking, as the only communication between them was usually to insult or annoy each other.
Nimue looked at him and looked at him. She looked at him so much that she thought she was going to cry, until Azriel let out a sigh.
"Are you going to come closer or are you going to stay there all night?"
Nimue flinched, but quickly crawled over to where he was, sitting beside him at a prudent distance and pulling her knees to her chest. She felt her nose and cheeks reddened by the cold, her fingertips growing numb. But she didn't mind, as that made her feel alive.
"Are you nervous?"
She mulled over the response for a couple of seconds, still gazing at the stars.
"Yes," she turned to look at Azriel only to find the male's gaze already fixed on her, a relaxed expression on his face. "And you?"
"Only a fool wouldn't be."
They fell silent for a while longer, Nimue's gaze on the city below, Azriel's on the beautiful female beside him.
He couldn't stop looking at her. When he tried, his gaze involuntarily returned to her figure. He focused on every little thing, every tiny detail he could see: the waves of her white hair, the messy half up she wore, how the smile seemed so natural on her face that even though she tried to hide it, it always came back.
His shadows seemed awfully and suspiciously quiet that night, leaving room for his not so quiet thoughts.
Suddenly, she raised her hand, pointing at something in the middle of the sky.
"I never knew what that constellation was called, but it's the one I observed from the few windows I saw in the Palace. Every night I looked at it, counted the stars, drew it on every piece of paper I laid my hands on."
Azriel followed her finger, unable to contain his smile when he saw what she meant. He leaned back, lying on the tiles and letting his weight fall on his elbows. Nimue turned to him, that curiosity and fascination typical of a child discovering the world shining in her eyes, and Azriel felt a stab of anger.
His mate, who had spent the twenty years of her life locked in a Palace, was nothing more than the puppet of a bad man. And only now she was lucky enough to see the world, to be fascinated by all those things that he considered so mundane and ordinary that he overlooked them day after day.
"Here we call it the Promise constellation, but in other courts they call it the Lovers' constellation. Under it, many couples in Prythian swear eternal love. They celebrate their weddings and engagements at night and swear their vows under the light of those stars." Azriel looked at her cautiously, waiting for any reaction from her.
But Nimue only turned her gaze back to the stars, a lump in her throat. It was beautiful. Swearing eternal love to someone...
In all her existence, she had never imagined that there would be room for love. But she allowed herself to dream for a second, just one second, about how it would feel to love and be loved.
Azriel felt his emotions mix with Nimue's, felt so many things at once that, careful not to let the female see him, he brought his hand to his face to wipe away the tear that was sliding down his cheek. It was brutal, feeling all those things as if it were the first time, because it certainly was the first time Nimue felt them.
"How beautiful..." the princess whispered.
"Yes, it is. It's beautiful."
Nimue looked at him again, the purest of smiles on her face, and with a quick movement, she took Azriel's hand between hers and brought it to her lap, causing Azriel to be surprised by the gesture.
"You must learn to trust me, no matter what it costs. From my heart and under this constellation, I swear loyalty to you, I swear I will do everything I can to win this war and make sure nothing goes wrong. I swear with all my soul that you can trust me, that I am worthy of your trust."
Azriel was stunned, speechless, a look of complete surprise uncommon on his face. With his gaze lost in their joined hands, he couldn't help but notice the scars contrasting against Nimue's pale skin, and how well their hands looked together. So contrasting were their skin tones, yet so accomplice in the marks of their past. He sat up, and with his other gloved hand, he embraced Nimue's.
"And I swear I will learn to trust you, blindly."
Intertwining between their fingers, a tattoo in the shape of thorn branches began to stain their skin, bearing witness to the promise they had just made.
And with only the stars as witnesses, Azriel and Nimue held each other's hands, looking into each others eyes, staring into each other's souls.
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livdem1human · 2 years ago
Text
My Headcanos on how Death would interact with you❤️‍🩹
///Platonic and Romantic///
!Gender neutral
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•Platonic•
- First of: He would probably be a little confused why you're not Afraid of him but find it amusing at the same time.
- Would be friendly but try to keep his distance
- Sharing a drink with You and maybe have some small talk won't hurt right? HAH wrong.
- Him Being Death includes not really having someone to talk to so he would probably Talk. A. LOT. (Like have u seen him interact with puss? This puppy wants to be heard)
- He would also enjoy it when you share some of your life Stories, doesn't even matter if they're happy Stories or not.
- Does actually enjoy the time with you.
- If you ask him to meet up again, he would totally be cocky about it.
- Like "Oh you will see me again either way" and then just disappear.
- Will never admit it but totally wants to see you again aswell
- After your first encounter he Would totally just appear next to you some day and start talking to you like it's the most normal thing in the world.
•Romantic•
- You somehow managed to get this oversized Puppy attached to you? Congratulations, you now have to get used to constant jumpscares.
- Fr tho He will just appear out of nowhere.
- Tbh i think he would at first still be a little distant emotionally
- You give him a comfort he never knew he needed
- Can and WILL protect you. Someone tries to hurt? He will absolutely terrorize them.
- Is the biggest softie for you. But look at him with doe eyes and he will melt right then and there.
- definition of "They fell first, he fell harder"
- He LOVES giving you pet names.
- Some he would use on a Daily basis are: Sunshine, Love/ my love, Darling, Dear or Flower
- And then he has specific pet names he uses to tease you: Bunny, Lamb, Dove
- You want him to shut up for once? Boop the snoot.
- Would absolutely nuzzle his cold nose into your neck out of nowhere.
- is pretty cold for someone with fur in general
- You notice hes Tense? Pls Scratch his ears, or rub his sides/Back.
- Is so touch starved, he will lean into any and every physical contact with you.
- he's also extremely cuddly.
-(edit) Love bites >>> fr tho, he would lightly bite into your cheek or shoulder to get your attention
- King of respecting boundaries.
- Will make you wear his Poncho. He loves seeing you in it.
- "It looks better on you anyways my love"
- You feel insecure about something? Oh boy.. the moment he finds out he will snatch you, sit you down on his lap and give you a shit tone of reassurance.
- Honestly i think you don't have to be worried about arguments/ fights with him. This man has been around since the begging of time, he's seen basically everything so making him mad enough for him to actually argue with you would be hard.
- has a constant inner conflict with himself about the whole situation tbh. He knows he shouldn't like you in such ways or even have a relationship with you. But he just can't help himself.
- it's such a chliché, but you're the light in his life (or not life? idk) He won't let anything happen to you.
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Holly shit this turned out longer than expected. I would say it turned out pretty good tho
If you notice any typos or Grammer mistakes pls let me know! English is not my first language ^^°
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Little extra note: I've always loved this song but lately i have to think of him when i listen to it❤️‍🩹
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